All Fall Down
by HopelessWreck
Summary: Three years have passed since the world fell to ruin and the remaining heroes were reformed or killed. Damian Wayne runs the remains of Gotham with an iron fist and though more powerful than ever, all is not well. Meanwhile Jason Todd answers a plea from a supposedly dead Dick Grayson that opens up a world of hell all it's own. Slash and dark with violence and non con. Evil Damian
1. Chapter 1

"..You're an idiot, you know that?"

Silence that lasted a full ten seconds. The hum of a motorcycle filled its place.

"This is crazy."

Roy Harper was exasperated. The man sounded tried and no doubt looked it. They all did anymore. Roy's voice had it's usual drone of annoyance and slight contempt. He was miles away, but there was definitely a stern frown in place as he spoke. Arms crossed across a firm chest, teeth clenched tight, Roy may have been frowning and a bit of a sour puss, but he did have a point.

At least Roy sounded sober if nothing else.

A rare thing anymore.

 _Crazy._

It _was_ crazy. More than crazy actually, but Jason couldn't admit that out loud. His hands gripped the accelerator, pushing for more speed.

"Come on Harper, don't be like that," Jason reasoned, "Besides, you know how I feel about _reunions_ ," His lip sneered over the word.

Roy Harper sighed, giving an audible _pop_ over the intercom, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Reunions and Jason Todd were like oil and water, no matter how hard you tried, they could never mix.

"Don't be such a nag."

"Jason, I don't think you realize.."

"That Gotham's taken a real spin down the shitter?" Jason finished for him. He knew. With evidence of that fact lying all around them, it was pretty hard to miss, especially with Roy's constant bitching, "How can I forget when you keep reminding me?"

Roy's voice lowered, "It's not just Gotham," He cautioned darkly, "you know that."

Jason let one hand fly loose, gesturing to the unseen man in his headset, "Fine, the whole g _oddamn_ world. _Whatever_." Roy's insinuations were that Jason lacked a pair of eyes and any common sense. That he hadn't lived under an oppressive sky for three years. They all knew the world had turned to shit, it wasn't exactly a secret. "It's really a shame how little places there are left to build that summer home I've always wanted." Jason said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, "I'm not blind, Roy."

Roy avoided Jason's cynicism with practiced ease, "I just don't understand why you're doing this. It's moronic."

Jason grinned, "Thanks for the encouragement."

"I'm serious. Why are you doing this Jason? Why do you even care?"

Jason couldn't give the answer he knew Roy wanted. He didn't have one. He only admitted one thing, "I'm tired of hiding, Roy."

The message was crumpled and lay heavy in his back pant pocket. Jason had read over it at least a dozen times.

Dick Grayson's name, a plea and an address.

Three years, Jason thought about the fall of Gotham and how he'd refused to help, how he'd ignored their cries. He refused to ignore Dick a second time, he couldn't. "Grayson wants help, fine. I'll give him some. Feels only right."

The divide was built after the fall. After the man of steel had destroyed half the planet and killed any who opposed him. Roy, Jason, Kory, others had fallen to the wayside, laying low in the shadows, but everyday had been a struggle. Jason refused to pick one side either way, good or evil, he didn't believe in following anyone but himself. He was done with the heroes, rejected from them, but he certainly wasn't following any madman either.

Jason hadn't fought. Even when Bruce, Dick and the others had fallen, Jason had refused to fight. Even when they needed him, he'd held his hand and told them to piss off. If guilt was what he felt when he read the letter, it seemed only right.

Right and yet wrong considering one very important fact. Dick Grayson was _dead_.

Or so Jason had thought.

Roy too.

The wind swept the intercom with a strong whipping sound, "It's been three years, Jason. Why contact you now if he's been alive all this time? Assuming it's even him."

Jason eyes narrowed at the thought, "Don't know if you've heard, but me an the bat-clan were a bit at odds. We didn't exactly swap recipes at family dinners or anything. Communication was a bit of a problem area for us, but this is definitely Dick's handwriting." That he knew.

Batman and his small flock of birds, none of them truly understood good, solid contact. It was all about masks and hiding. Avoidance was a sport between them.

"Still, might be a trap or something."

"Dick doesn't do traps," That took intelligence, something Dick Grayson severely lacked.

"Odd that he knew were to send the message." Roy mumbled, "Where's he been all this time?"

More answers Jason didn't have. "The fuck should I know?"

Roy might have found the venture useless, but he had his needles and drink to comfort himself with. He'd fallen more than Jason had ever seen him. The final nail had been Kory's body, cold and lifeless, broadcast with the rest of the heroes. A warning to all who would oppose the new order. Roy was broken, even more so than Jason. Roy had lost hope, lost everything and Jason didn't know what to do with him anymore.

Roy had found his drugs and Jason had no one left to rely on. Then the message came, written in Dick's handwriting, begging for his help. Calling Jason to Gotham.

So Jason answered.

 _Gotham._ It'd been too long. _  
_

Jason's foot found the edge of the road as he stopped the bike. His red helmet pulled off and revealed short, unevenly trimmed hair caked in a layer of dirt and sweat. A hand rose to wipe at the moistness at his forehead. Jason's body was tight and cramped from too many hours of riding. Tired. He peered across the skyline. Across the city scape. There was light, the feeling of life, but it was..

Dark.

Roy said something Jason didn't hear.

It was really, _really_ dark.

Roy sounded aggravated on his end, "You're not even listening, are you?"

Jason shook his head for no one to see, "It's bad Roy."

"I know."

"No," Jason swallowed and shook his head again. It was nothing like either of them could have imagined Gotham would become. His eyes continued to scan the shadow, the blackness surrounding everything. The darkness of a void. Gotham had become a void. Even more lifeless than it had ever been. Everything looked, _felt_ wrong. "It's really, really bad Roy."

"I know," Roy repeated quieter, more resolute. "Jason, you know you don't have to do this."

"Yeah Roy, I do."

There was another pause, "It's not going to make a difference, nothing is." Roy was back on another one if his _woe is me_ speeches.

 _Typical._ It was getting so damn typical.

Jason knew he was losing him, "When I get back we're having a serious talk about getting you some _Prozac_ or something, this whole moping bullshit has got to stop." Harsh words, but Roy needed to hear them.

There was a long pause, Jason thought they might have been disconnected, but Roy finally spoke.

"When.. _if_ you get back, I'll be gone," Roy said calmly, "That's the real reason I called you, besides to tell you what a dumb ass you're being. Jason, I'm joining."

"Joining?" Jason snorted as if it where a bad joke, but his throat suddenly hurt, "Joining what? Hopefully, you mean AA because you're obviously drunk."

"I haven't touched anything in a week," Roy said coldly, he sounded hollow, "I'm done with it, for good. I'm joining them. I can't do this anymore. You're getting reckless and dangerous and after Kory,I..I just can't deal with it anymore. Like you said, I'm done running."

Roy sober was far more serious, severe and clearheaded than a man using so many different narcotics had any right to be. He was serious, more serious than he'd been in ages.

Serious and even more broken.

It made the words all the more painful to hear.

Jason's teeth ground over a smile, his breath was sharp, "Are you fucking kidding me? If this is a joke, it ain't fucking funny." The question wasn't in humor. Honestly, Jason had been waiting for this. The final break between them.

Though complete surrender, Jason hadn't expected _that_.

Roy said his words carefully "It's not a joke, Jason. If you have a fucking death wish, I won't stop you. But let's face it.." The next words cut Jason even as he tried not to let them, " _it's over._ " Roy's voice remains strong, "I'm finished and so are you. It's time to throw in the towel. We can't win."

Jason narrowed his eyes, Roy sounded sober, but he was spouting nothing but nonsense, "You're pussying out on me, now? After everything we've been through?"

"I told you, I'm not running anymore, I'm not relying on anymore friends. That's all I've ever done and look where it's gotten me, Ollie, Kory, I'm not losing anymore."

"So you're ditching the last one you've got?" Jason asked with venom, "Fuck you Harper. You're nothing but a goddamned coward."

There was a quiet and Jason could feel his heart beat in his own ears, then a whisper, " _I know_. But it's the only option left. We can join them or die, that's it."

That was it, the last person Jason had, Roy was abandoning him. Just like everyone else, Roy was leaving him too.

Jason should have been used to it by now, but he wasn't, the feeling never got any easier to deal with, "What about Kory? What the fuck would she think about this?"

Koriand'r, Starfire, their only true friend, the third part of their trio.

The reply was flat, "Kory's dead, Jason." Roy continued callously, "They're all dead, Ollie, Dinah, Bruce, Tim, Babs," His breath hitched, " _Dick_ , they tried to fight it and they couldn't win. This is the world now Jason, it's time to accept it. Like they couldn't. Let's be smarter than them. "

Jason fumed, He bit the inner corner of his lip. He wanted to punch Roy in the face. Punch him till his hands were bloody and raw. Bringing up those names like Roy had any right. All Jason could do was punch his bike. "You're lucky I can't fucking hit you right now."

Roy had waited to tell him on purpose, so Jason couldn't pummel him senseless. Like the coward that he really was.

"Jason I.." Roy stalled, he didn't know what to say, "I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to die. Not like Kory, I'm done fighting them."

Jason asked quietly, _deadly_ , "So you'd rather fight me instead?"

"If I have to," Roy admitted.

"They'll probably kill you."

"They only kill you if you fight. I have to try if nothing else. I'm putting my hands up, Jason."

Surrender. Roy was surrendering.

Roy was lost to him, gone and Jason knew he was dead serious.

Jason saw the color reflected in his helmet, everything seemed tinted in red, a mask of color. He felt dizzy and sick, but mostly he was pissed. Roy had made his choice and Jason had to accept it, like it or not. "If dying's what your afraid of then you better hope we don't see each other again."

Roy didn't respond, but Jason knew he was listening. "Because I can guarantee you this much Harper, if I ever see your pathetic face again, I'll put a bullet right through it." For Kory, if nothing else.

Roy didn't relent, he hardened. Jason had made his decision and Roy his. "That goes both ways, _Todd_."

The line cut.

Jason threw the device from his ear and crunched it with his boot. The sound was oddly satisfying. Jason wouldn't need it anymore. He didn't need it or Roy. Jason knew he was too attached, had been for awhile.

 _It's better this way._

Kory had been wrong, Jason worked better alone, always had.

Jason's sight was set to the tallest tower he could find.

 _Wayne._ Wayne Tower still stood. After everything, it was still as big and bright as ever. _  
_

Jason killed the engine. He'd deal with Roy later if he had to.

The gun fell smoothly into Jason's gloved palm.

Who needed friends anyway?

Certainly not Jason Todd. Certainly not the Red Hood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

He watched, far and away. Watched with the eyes of a hawk as the man dismounted his motorcycle. Watched with a sense of contentment as the man made his way towards the building. Just like he'd hoped he would.

Perfect.

The rain stared its light descent, no doubt waiting to pick up speed with the oncoming storm carried by the charcoal grey colored clouds above. He wasn't sheltered from the weather in the least, but even as the wind whipped his hair against his tan face, the masked man didn't care.

He'd come.

Jason Todd.

Jason Todd had arrived.

The man's lip curled upward, it was perfect. Too easy. Jason was here and it was going to be all right now. Everything was falling into place.

"Alfred," He said through the intercom, "Prepare a room. We're going to have company."

The reply was crisp, tight, "Of course, sir."

Nightwing could barely keep the smirk off his face as he jumped into the darkness below him.

* * *

Sirens wailed, drifting from all around the chilly air. Red, the crimson color of blood poured across, painting the area around Jason in its unnatural hue. The sky looked like an open wound as the rain swept across his face with the wind.

Everything smelled like it looked. Everything smelled like blood.

The address was spelled out in messy, barely legible handwriting. Smudged from the rainfall and Jason's fingers against the ink. Not that it mattered.

Jason already knew it. He didn't need the address written out for him, he knew the place. Hell, Jason had trashed the place more than once when he'd been pissed off, for reasons he can't even remember anymore.

It was one of Dick's old hideaways, when he and the bat were fighting. One of many.

Jason shoved a few broken items from his path, the floor creaked heavily below him.

When it had actually been something, the apartment building was decent, nothing too spectacular, but now it stood eerily empty and cold. It was obvious nobody lived here anymore. The building was long since abandoned, ready to be condemned.

Jason didn't even feel bad for the mud sloshed in from his boots. The climb was easy enough and the window was broken out, like so many of the others, and he slipped in through the balcony.

The apartment wasn't impressive, not that it ever had been, but for Dick that had been the point. All the wealth and splendor of living with Bruce Wayne could overwhelm anyone and sometimes it felt nice to be normal. As normal as anyone who dressed in tights and wore a mask hero could feel.

Three years.

The place had been empty longer than that.

Three years since Bruce's fall, since Batman had taken up his cowl, since they'd all fallen.

Except Jason. Jason Todd, who refused to be involved.

Then there was Damian.

Damian Wayne had turned, faster than a speeding bullet against his former allies. Against his own father, and his former mentor, Dick Grayson.

Damian Wayne had become a weapon, the victor, the main man of Gotham, where his father had once stood, but in a much different pair of shoes.

Damian Wayne had killed Dick Grayson.

Or so the rumors said.

"You came."

The voice wasn't shocked, it was amused.

Jason's grip on his gun tightened, "Yeah well I figured a note from a dead man was pretty impressive," He looked around, but he couldn't see much in the dimness. There was no light save from the moonlight and the ceilings were high, like black pools of darkness. Jason's vision stretched and either way all he saw was black. No sign of the speaker. Jason's voice rose, "I figured it must be pretty damn important for you to contact little old me."

"I knew you would."

Jason frowned at the cheery tone, "Yeah well, lucky for you," He positioned his view where he thought the voice might be, but the sound kept changing, "Now how about you come out like a nice little birdie and we talk face to face?" He didn't really enjoy talking to a shadow.

Something moved to his left, a quick streak of black and Jason raised his gun. He was too slow to catch it before it disappeared again.

Jason cursed, "Dammit Dick, I'm really not in the mood for this. Can we spare the whole spooky voice in the shadow thing for some other time? I mean the whole world's pretty fucked if you haven't noticed. Do we really have to play this game?"

The shadow moved to the open window, and finally stopped. He perched on the window sill, much like an actual bird. At least Jason could see him, or a least part of him. His hair was longer than Jason ever remembered, long like a fountain of black ink covering most of his face. "I'm really glad you came."

Dick really was alive. Impeccably dressed in a fresh new costume and looking healthier than ever.

Jason moved a step closer, gun still raised, not sure what to believe, "You're supposed to be dead."

Dick smirked, but it morphed into something uglier in the darkness, "Am I now?"

"They said it was Damian," Jason motioned with his free hand over his chest, "sliced right through you like a holiday ham. Got to say for a dead guy, you look pretty good."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dick said lightly, "Seems you can't believe everything you hear, now can you?"

"But what happened then?" It didn't make sense, "Why aren't you dead?"

Dick shrugged, his voiced remained casual if not a bit hurt, "Would you prefer if I actually were dead, Jason?"

Jason shook his head, "I didn't say that. It's just a little weird is all."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," Dick made it sound like a joke.

"Yeah sure," Jason shakes away an eerie feeling that Dick's pouting at him. He wouldn't fall into any of Dick's charms, he wanted answers. "What am I doing here, Dick? That note you sent was pretty desperate sounding.."

"It's a desperate situation," Dick countered.

"It's been desperate for a few years, Dick." Jason pointed out, "Why contact me now?"

Dick's voice was earnest. "I've been searching for you, searching these last few years. I've been searching for you and the others."

"Yeah about that, how did you find me exactly?"

Dick actually has the gall to look amused, "It may have taken me awhile, but honestly Jason, didn't you learn anything from Bruce at all?"

"Okay," Jason gave him. Bats have a way of finding people, even if it took over three years. _Fine_. "You said the others," He ventured curiously, "Are they alive too?" If Dick was alive, perhaps Tim, Bruce, Babs, the old man Pennyworth, even someone like Selina Kyle..where any of them alive too? Were all the rumors actually just that? Rumors?

Dick sighed sadly. "I'm not sure. I've tried Jason, tried so hard," he sounded forlorn, "but I just haven't been able to find them."

Jason believed that. Dick probably would go to the end of the world to save even one person if he knew he could. "Why did you contact me of all people?" He'd stayed out of this whole war for a good reason, "You were taking a pretty big gamble that I'd show up here."

Dick's voice filled with emotion, "But you did. I knew you had to be alive. I _felt_ it. I knew you'd come for me, Jason."

It was a bit, _okay a lot_ , odd, the whole thing. Dick acted like this was some kind of happy reunion. Jason had buried any feelings he might have had for Dick Grayson years ago. Buried them within himself, buried and all but forgotten about them. Dick's words sounded true enough, but something in them..

Something was off, really off.

Jason knew it was training and instinct, neither of which he could ever turn off, but some where inside him cautioned him against believing Dick's words.

Jason tried valiantly to get a better look at the masked face, but no matter how he tried all he could see was Dick's raven mane. The man was purposely avoiding his glance.

Why? What was he hiding? "Seriously Dick, what the hell happened to you?" Jason asked.

"I'm okay Jason," Dick bowed his head, his long hair swept further, like a curtain across his face, "I'm just happy to see you. That you're alive and in one piece," His voice lowered, "I've really missed you."

Normally such a thing would make Jason, as much as he hated to admit it, happy to hear. For some reason however, right then, Jason just wanted him to stop. "If that's supposed to convince me of something, you'll have to do better than that, Dickie."

Dick turned away with an unreadable expression, "You know I've always hated that name."

 _Dickie_ , Jason had always called him that, affectionate or not. Not that it meant anything anymore. "Alright, Dick, Nightwing, whatever." Jason sneered, because it really didn't matter what Jason called him, he was tired of playing games, "Just tell me, why the hell did you send me that note? Why have you been hiding all this time?"

"Hiding?" Dick considered the word and replied softly, "Jason, you've been the one hiding, not me. I've been out there fighting, trying to help us all."

That wasn't what Jason heard. But Dick was technically supposed to be six feet under so..

"I've been trying to put our family back together."

 _Family?_ Was Dick honestly that stupid. " _Christ_ , Dick stop it!" Jason blurted out, "Stop this bullshit!" He didn't have a family, not anymore. Jason's patience was all but gone, "Just tell me. What the hell do you want?"

"The truth is," Dick's voice lowered, "I need you, Jason."

The words sent a shiver down Jason's back, "Need me? That's unnecessarily freaky," His grip tightened again, gun still stationed on the darkened form at the window. He didn't know what that that meant and he's not sure he wanted to "You saying you want to cop a feel for old times sake?" He laughed harshly, "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Dick's face, what little could be seen of it, tightened.

The look was familiar, but not on Dick.

Jason's grip tightened.

Somewhere a red flag shot up.

"If that little hell spawn Damian didn't kill you, then what happened?" Jason rethought, "Well I guess he's not so little anymore," Damian was grown now, and had no doubt outgrown the Robin suit and title, were the title even still around to be had.

"I.." Dick hesitated and for the first time Jason saw a silent struggle in the man's stance, "like I said, you can't believe everything you hear. I'm fine Jason, really."

"Fine?" Jason asked, doubtfully. Maybe Dick was fine, but clearly Gotham wasn't "I heard Damian's the big wig now, no word from Bruce? Is he alive too?"

Dick shook his head, "I don't know, but I haven't seen him."

Dick lost contact with the Bat like everyone else? That wasn't good. "Well the little shits really done a number on the city. It's looking like a damn morgue out there. Something tells me Bruce would have a real fit if he could see what's become of this place."

Dick's head cocked, he frowned, "Damian's doing a hard job, Jason."

Jason motioned with his gun, "You're honestly defending him." Typical. Dick had always tried to make Damian seem less than the devil he truly was, "Take a look around sometime. It's not exactly the Hamptons out there in case you haven't noticed." Not that Gotham had ever been an attractive city, but, Jason was getting distracted, "Now tell me why you sent me that letter after playing dead all this time. Tell me or I swear I'm leaving."

"I already told you. I need you Jason," Nightwing frowned, "what more do I need to say?"

 _What more did he need to say?_ Dick had clearly lost it if he thought that was enough.

"Jason, please, please come with me and we can work together. Help find the others. Help me make this right."

Jason took a step back. Dick's story, _pleading_ with him, didn't change a thing. Jason thought once he heard from the other man, heard what he had to say, it might change something, but it didn't.

"Look, that sounds like a grand old time, but I think I'm gonna have to pass." Jason wondered if this whole day wasn't just one really bad dream. First Roy throwing himself to the wolves now Dick, who's not only not dead, but acting like some love sick puppy, begging him to help him. It was a bit too much, "Whatever you're planning, count me out. Not that this hasn't been pleasant and all, but I'm gonna go now," Jason turned, ready to escape this crap-hole, escape Dick's searching eyes.

Escape the whole damn world if he could.

The floor creaked behind him.

"Oh Jason."

Jason stopped. His blood turned to ice.

Dick's voice..

it was..

it was way off..

not right..

at all..

Jason turned.

"And here I was trying to be so nice about all this."

Dick's voice had deepened, deepened so much Jason didn't even recognize it. It was familiar and yet not.

"You really should have let me do this the nice way." Dick rose from the window and the body that stretched forth was too tall and broad. Taller than Jason by at least an inch or two with solid muscle outlined against the tightness of his suit.

Then it all made sense. It shouldn't have, because it was completely insane, but suddenly Jason understood.

Even if he didn't.

Jason swallowed at seeing the form in front of him, "Been doing some 'roids there, Dickie?" Nightwing was never as intimidating as just then, an impossibly tall black mass of liquid black, "Cause I've got to tell you, it's really working for you."

The man in front of him, not Dick, _no way was it Dick_ , folded his arms, "I see you're still as dimwitted as ever," He paused over the last word with a twisted mouth, "Todd."

Jason's eyes narrowed. He should have known. His mouth lifted and his finger pressed to the gun's trigger, just waiting to pull back "And I see you've gone to stealing other people's suits, Wayne." He _really_ should have known.

"You're one to talk," Nightwing, Damian Wayne, was larger than Jason ever would have imagined. Granted it'd been years since Jason had last seen Damian, but it was beyond bizarre to see the man, not boy in front of him.

Jason gave him that. Technically, Jason had stolen the suit before him, "Touche'. But I think we'll both agree it looked better on me, though you've definitely been practicing with the voice and that little act thing you've got going on. Almost had me fooled."

It was disturbing how much Damian sounded like Dick.

Damian's smirk darkened. "Convincing, isn't it?" He looked proud, way too fucking proud of himself.

Sick fuck.

"Honestly, I'll give you a seven out of ten. You were a little too desperate, might want to tone down the begging a bit. Dick's pathetic, but not that pathetic."

Damian frowned, "I'll have to work on that."

"Where is he, Damian?"

Damian folded his arms and shook his head, "I can't tell you that."

Jason grit his teeth, his free hand formed a fist in anger. He'd come all this way just to get fooled by this freak dressed in Dick's costume, "Goddammit, you piece of shit! Where is he? Where's Dick? That was definitely his handwriting on that note so where is he?"

Damian observed him through cold, blue eyes, "Do you really want to know that badly?"

Jason prepared the shot right at the other man's head, "I really do."

Damian smirked, "Too bad."

The shot fired off, just as Damian jumped away, away and back into the darkness. Jason cursed as the bullet lodged into the wall behind where Damian had been standing. It seemed way too fast for any human to move, the shot was perfect.

Damian was lost from sight again.

Jason growled in frustration, "Goddamn prick, stop hiding from me!" Maybe he was out of practice from the whole bats in the shadows thing, but he really hated being the sitting duck.

The voice seemed to come from every direction at once, "Am I the prick for not being seen or are you the simpleton for not being able to find me?"

Jason moved with the voice, but couldn't pinpoint it, "You're the asshole, Damian. You've always been the asshole."

"A shame we have to do things this way, I was really hoping it would be more pleasant."

"Well dream on," Jason didn't even know where to aim, "Now come out so we can _talk_ some more." Jason would definitely blow Damian's face to kingdom come. He'd fooled him, made him come all this way and messed with Jason's head. Damian deserved to eat more than one bullet for all that.

"Now things will have to get..messy."

"Show your face, you bastard!" Jason shouts at the room.

Silence fell before Damian finally answered.

"Stop fighting me." The voice moved from above Jason right to his ear. Right behind him. Damian's voice was a whisper, "You don't have to do this."

Jason shivered against the warmth on his neck, "You're right," Jason replied. "I don't have to," His teeth clicked, "I _want_ to." He turned and shot again, but Damian wasn't there.

"Dammit. Where the hell are you? Stop hiding like a damn coward."

Something hit the side of his face, Jason felt the knuckles, a fist, then sent him reeling. The force of the blow knocked him to his knees. He saw stars for a minute, right before the second blow came.

Jason spat blood. He managed to dodge the third attack, hand springing out of Damian's range. He used his own momentum to send the other man flying, landing a kick in Damian's ribs. Distracted by the minor setback and trying to gain his footing back, Jason managed a punch at Damian's fumble. Right in the smug bastard's face.

Damian grumbled unhappily, face as split as Jason's, "You'll pay for that," He seethed.

Jason grinned and raised his gun again, "Bring it."

Damian's blue eyes were the last thing Jason saw before Damian disappeared and the smoke bomb fell.

Damn bats and their _toys_.

"You really shouldn't make this more difficult on yourself, Jason," The voice trailed behind him as Jason tried to guard his eyes from the fog distorting his vision, "I don't want to hurt you."

Jason laughed at the words. When had Damian ever not wanted to hurt someone? "Yes, you do." He wasn't sure if Damian was messing with him, but his vision was going more than foggy from the smoke, his legs were getting wobbly and he felt dizzy. Jason didn't feel right. Something was afoul, Damian wasn't playing fair.

Something hit him.

Jason didn't feel it, didn't even realize he'd been knocked until after he was falling. Everything got fuzzy and muted. His eyesight failed, slowly falling into darkness. All he heard were the words, Damian's words at his ear. A hiss low and menacing, "You're right. I do."

Jason last thought was, _Dammit,_ Roy was right.

Then came the black. The never-ending black.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

The dark haired man turned at the sound, a gulp in his throat. His pulse quickened and his heart raced. He hesitated for a moment then called out, trying to keep his voice steady, but not at all prepared for what was on the other side, "Yes?"

The door opened and the man breathed a sigh at the aged butler grasping the handle. "Alfred," he breathed in relief.

It was always better it be Alfred Pennyworth at his door than the alternative. _Always_.

The relief dissipated the moment he saw the tightness in the older man's face. Something was wrong. "What is it?"

"We have a problem."

The crisp words broke through the small reprieve, causing the familiar feeling of trepidation to return. His mouth felt dry as he asked, "Is it..?"

Alfred shook his head, "No, he's fine. It's something else, it's..we're going to have company."

Blue eyes widened, _company?_ "What? Who?"

"I'm afraid I don't know."

Images of names and faces flash like an infinity, yet last for only a second in his mind. "This is bad, Alfred."

Very, very bad

Alfred's mouth thinned, "Indeed it is."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

He mulled Alfred's words and paced as he did. He tried hard not to think the worst, but ultimately arrived at the same conclusion every time. The same words he'd said before.

 _Bad.._

 _This was bad._

His nervousness continued to mount, brewing deep inside him, until he couldn't stand it anymore. The door flew open under his quivering hand. Antsy and a little queasy, with a slightly uneven step, Tim Drake marched down the hallway.

 _Company?  
_

Just what in the hell did that mean?

 _Trouble, that's what.._

Tim's throat tightened at the thought, causing his pace to increase.

It didn't matter, whatever, _whomever_ it was, it certainly didn't bode well. For any of them. Whatever poor soul the dark Devil had managed to ensnare, Tim could feel nothing but pity for them.

Darkness filled the walls around him, Tim's feet echoed against the floor, the only sound in the dark hallway. The racing of his heart pounded against his temples with every step. He felt the flow of blood with each beat, felt the rising of ice, sharp and painful against his pale skin. The deep coldness, the bone biting chill Tim could never shake, no matter how hard he tried, filled him right to the deepest part of his being. The unnatural iciness that no amount of clothing or heat could ever fight against, the frozen chill, the icy pain was all he knew anymore. The darkness, the cold, the dead quiet, it felt like the inner depths of a tomb.

 _Not far off.._

Tim's jagged nails snagged against the skin of his palms as he tried to keep his hands from shaking. He gulped as continued on with growing uneasy, feeling the unseen eyes of the house following his every move. He didn't know how, if it was the years of practice with Bruce or his own personal instincts, logically it had to be a bit of both, but Tim always knew when he was being watched.

And Tim hated it.

Hated being watched by those cold, unforgiving eyes. Blue like his father's, but nowhere near the same.

 _The same.._

Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing. It hadn't been for years and never would be again.

Changed. Everything had changed.

Survival was an unfair, ugly, _ugly_ thing. It brought out desperation, a shameful desperation in even the strongest of people.

Tim hated to admit how easy it was to think about doing the unthinkable. The one thing he'd always been told they were never supposed to do. Killing Damian as he slept, just to grant them some kind of peace, it would have been too easy and Tim knew that. He knew he couldn't and wouldn't but the idea was never as far off as he would have liked.

Tim remembered the shock and terror, the first time Damian wound his fingers in his hair and pulled, brought Tim to his knees like he was an object and nothing more. It was so easy for Damian, too easy for Damian to overpower him.

Tim hadn't fought back, too scared and unsure to do anything and eventually Damian had decided against it and let go, but the feeling burned Tim to the core. He stopped any future chances of it happening again, immediately chopping his hair too short to ever be grasped like that again.

Damian didn't seem to care, forgetting, or simply realizing he'd never wanted Tim to begin with.

Whether it was fortunate or not remained subjective, but Tim knew he wasn't the true victim, the _real_ victim of Damian's advances. He felt Damian's anger and bitterness, but, aside from that one time, not much else. Damian saved those feelings and selfish desires for another. Another he'd broken and battered worse than either Tim or Alfred.

Broken, Tim often worried, beyond repair.

A part of him sometimes wished he _were_ the target of Damian's selfishness. Maybe then Tim could fight him better, have some kind of leverage. As it was, he had nothing over the younger man. Damian had all the cards in his deck. He had the upper hand in ever way and he never failed to remind Tim of that.

Tim felt utterly helpless most days and it crushed him to know Alfred, one of the most resilient men he knew, felt the same. It was all but painted on the lines in the elder man's face. Old and worn, like a sheet pulled too thin, tearing at the seams.

Sadly, Alfred wasn't the only one. Tim wondered, _feared_ how long it would be before one of them finally ripped, not just tore slightly, but actually ripped in two.

How long could they survive like this? Surely not forever. Despite what Damian seemed to think, what he was doing, hiding them away like this, trapping them like they were his to do with as he pleased, this wasn't any kind of salvation.

They were Damian's pets.

Damian was playing with them for now, but what about when he lost interest in them? Tossed them away?

What then?

Damian Wayne was nothing like his father. Cold, uncaring and downright selfish, Damian cared about no one but himself. He'd proven it over and over again and eventually, his interest would waver. Like the spoiled child he still was, Damian would soon outgrow his toys.

Till then, they had to endure.

Endure the cold, endure the _pain_.

The scars Tim had acquired, the scars he'd seen on the others, he would never, could never trust, never _forgive_ , Damian again.

Never.

Just the thought of Bruce, the mentor, the leader, the _father_ brought a sadness, a deep emptiness that only seemed to further spread the agony Tim already felt.

The legacy, Bruce's legacy was tarnished.

Tarnished and torn.

Destroyed by the man's only living blood.

 _T_ he devil dressed in the handsomest of faces..

Tim felt him. Felt the suffocating change in the air. Felt the temperature drop even more. Felt the tension rise. Felt the _hatred_ boil inside him.

Felt it all in the flash of a second.

"I assume Pennyworth informed you of our new arrival."

The cold voice was sharp as a thorn and cut twice as deep.

Tim's reply was curt. "He did."

Tim didn't dare say more, even as the questions lingered on his tongue. Something else caught his attention at that moment.

Damian's face.

The bruise and split lip were a bit of a shock. The purple mark against the tan of Damian's skin took a moment to recognize, but once Tim did, it was all he could see. The sympathy he should have felt turned more to worry about how Damian had acquired such a thing. Who or what had done that to him?

"You're concern is touching," The corner of Damian's mouth lifted the slightest bit.

Tim didn't say anything in reply and didn't intend to. The sarcasm was obvious, but if Damian thought Tim felt anything of Damian's well being or that Tim was supposed to feign concern for the taller man, Damian was severely mistaken.

"Trust me, this will never happen again."

Tim nodded, though he didn't quite know what Damian meant.

Damian continued regardless, "Pennyworth could use your help. Our guest may prove a bit volatile when he awakes and I'd rather he not hurt the help."

"He?" The possibilities made Tim's heart race and mind whirl. Just who had Damian brought back with him? And better yet why? More than likely _he_ was the culprit of Damian's injury. Not that Tim dared to hope _he_ was anyone worth meeting.

Damian sneered, but didn't seem apt to share anymore, content with Tim's confusion, "I'd hate for something to happen to Pennyworth. We all know how abysmal your cooking and housework skills are."

Tim's eyes narrowed. Was that supposed to be a joke? Damian hardly spoke but a few clipped words at him anymore, much less threw quips, cruel as they were, so casually. Damian had been so focused on something else of late, Tim felt like he never saw him anymore. Not that it was a bad thing, the furthest thing from it actually, but that also meant Tim never saw _him_ anymore either.

Damian saw Tim's bewilderment and instantly his posture changed. His eyes darkened, "I trust I don't have to worry about allowing this. That you won't do anything that might cause any," His teeth clicked, "problems."

Tim shook his head.

Damian was happy enough with that. He waved him off dismissively, "Be quick about it then. I have some things to attend to," It was a brush off, clear and concise, as usual.

As if Tim didn't know what those _things_ were. It made his stomach sick just to think about it. "Is?" Tim croaked, shocked at how weak he sounded, "How is _he_?"

Damian's back was to him as he said it. The man stopped, but didn't face him. Tim could see the tension, anger no doubt, mounting in Damian's shoulders.

Tim knew it was foolish, but he continued, with a desperation he couldn't stop, "Please Damian, what you're doing, it's not fair. He's not.."

"Don't you dare to tell what's fair in _my_ own home!" Damian seethed. Face half turned and furious, his tone held no room for argument, "Pennyworth is waiting and I suggest you go meet him. _Now_." Despite his words, it _wasn't_ a suggestion.

Tim didn't argue that technically the home, if it could still be called that, nor the people in it were actually Damian's. Despite how Damian treated them all like his property, they weren't. Tim knew better though. He knew what a statement like that would get him and it would cost more than his pride.

Much more.

He had no further argument and it hurt, hurt more than anything that Tim knew he would do what Damian asked.

He had to.

* * *

Deeper down the wing, the wing of the manor he never allowed Drake nor Pennyworth to step foot on, Damian found his way, determined and resolute. Found his way toward the largest room. The room that had once been his father's, but was now his. The room that held memories, held everything Damian refused to let go of.

 _..not fair.._

What did Tim Drake know of fair?

 _Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
_

If he knew half of what Damian had done to keep his imbecilic head attached to his shoulders, how many sacrifices he'd made to keep him, keep them _all_ safe, Drake would realize just how much he owed him.

His wretched life, for starters.

Tim was more often than not a problem, _nothing new there_ , but any anger he felt at the shorter man's audacity quickly evaporated once he was out of sight and for that Damian was actually grateful. Tim Drake wouldn't ruin this day, this staggering success, Damian simply wouldn't allow it.

This was his victory and Damian would savor it. Savor it to the fullest extent.

And _damn_ Drake to hell anyway.

Damian pushed the double doors open and immediately he was struck with a feeling that something wasn't right.

The room was still and cold, but more than that, it was _empty_. Empty save for a deep breeze and a dim light. A dim light coming from far across the room, coming from..

Damian moved in and felt the breeze hit him as he did. The questions, where the light and air were coming from were quickly answered. Answered as plainly as he could see them.

The balcony doors were open.

A swallow of fear and more than a little fury filled his step as Damian all but charged to the open doors, gripping them so hard he might have taken them off the hinges. He stopped short of exploding in rage when he finally saw the figure standing, back turned away from him.

 _Not gone._

Damian breathed a sigh of relief.

 _Here, he was still here._

The light glistened against the man's dark hair, still damp from the rain and while Damian had been anything but quiet in his approach, the man remained still and silent. Unmoving.

Damian ventured forward. He stopped just behind the standing man and gently touched the side of his face. The skin was cold as ice. It wasn't the chill of the skin, but the flinch his touch caused that truly burned Damian's hand.

Why? After all this time. Why did he still shudder like that?

"You're cold." Just how long had he been standing out here?

The dark head of hair shook the slightest bit. "It feels good."

"You shouldn't be out here."

"I like it," A murmur that seemed lost in the breeze, "I like the rain."

Damian frowned. He glanced at the sky, the fog was too thick to see any stars and the color was downright dreary looking. The rain had stopped, but only just, and he hardly saw the appeal of staying out here any longer. He grabbed the other man's elbow, "You're wet. You need to get inside." His voice and pull weren't overly forceful, but firm enough to make his point.

"No," The man yanked his arm away and shook his head, "Not yet."

Damian restrained a growl, he was fast losing his patience.

"I said," Damian's grip returned, this time to let him know he meant business, "Get inside."

Wide eyes turned to him, Blue and finally realizing, as if he'd awoken from some kind of daze, "Damian?"

Dick Grayson looked pale, yet flushed. From the cold or something else, Damian didn't know. His features where pulled in worry and while Damian could appreciate the way the light reflected off Dick's skin, still somewhat dewy from the rain, it wouldn't do well for him to get pneumonia.

Damian led him inside, shutting the door and switching on the lights. He breathed a deep breath to calm himself from asking Dick why he'd do something so stupid. It was behavior like that, being reckless when he should have known better that had Damian a bit worried, but also a bit miffed.

Damian didn't take well to being disobeyed.

"I told you to stay inside." Damian tried hard not to make it sound like an accusation, but it was. He didn't allow Dick to reply, knowing whatever the other man said probably wouldn't be of any value anyway. "Take off your clothes."

Somehow the request became a command and though he hadn't meant for it to be so harsh, Dick's eyes immediately flashed to his. Wide and impossibly blue, his voice cracked as he asked, a bit too hurriedly, panicked even, "What? _Why_?"

Damian's lips pursed at the reaction, "Because they're wet and if you stay in them, you'll get sick," he explained.

Dick remained uncertain, still sopping and now dripping on the hand stitched silk rug, leaving a small pool of water at his feet. He didn't so much as shift a muscle, nor did he make any inclination he was going to remove any of his clothing. His lack of response and apparent readiness to stay right as he was, forced Damian's hand.

Dick shuddered again, but this time Damian blamed it on the chill from the drenched clothes and nothing more. Although Damian tried to be somewhat gentle, his attempt to remove the clothing was made harder by the fact that Dick's shirt and pants were almost completely stuck to his body.

Damian was forced to peel them off slowly, showcasing the golden glow of Dick's skin as he did so. Dick didn't fight him, but his shoulders tensed and his eyes remained set on the damp carpet below him.

He upturned Dick's jaw lightly, to meet his gaze. Dick's eyes went from dull to alight when he noticed the color and cut on Damian's face. Dick lifted a hand in what looked to be fascination and horror and gently caressed it. "What happened?"

Damian turned away, "Nothing."

Damian grabbed a nearby throw to shield Dick's nakedness, draping the thick fabric over his shoulders. Dick pulled the rich texture closer and let Damian, in turn, pull him closer. Dick didn't tense or shudder, but Damian felt if he didn't hold him, Dick might just disappear. Like a shadow.

Like a ghost.

His grip tightened and Damian found the feeling of Dick's form a sudden comfort. He didn't want to let go. He was almost afraid to.

"Where were you?"

Dick's question reverberated against his chest and Damian felt an all too familiar worry rising. He'd explained it to Dick several times already, but as it was of late, nothing seemed to stick with the man anymore, "I told you earlier, I had someone I had to meet."

"Someone important?"

Damian smirked at the question, "Could be," He answered honestly. He didn't know yet, didn't know how much help Todd would be, how much importance he might have. Damian was simply running out of options otherwise.

Dick hummed against him, "Is it," He hesitated, "is it somebody I should know?" He asked quietly.

Damian held his tongue at the obvious answer, of course Dick _should_ know Todd, but the truth was he probably wouldn't. "It doesn't matter. You'll see him tomorrow and even if you don't remember him, he'll be staying with us from now on. You'll know him soon enough."

"Tomorrow?" Dick asked curiously, a look of hope filled his eyes, "Will Tim and Alfred be there too?"

Damian swallowed away the feeling, the dark edge of jealousy that was sharp in his throat. He wouldn't be jealous when he should be thankful Dick remembered them at all.

"They will."

He brushed the hair from Dick's eyes and a sudden look, a blank expression filled Dick's eyes. He knocked Damian's hand away and took a step back.

There was defiance in Dick's stance.

Damian was tired, slightly irritable and being brushed off by Dick, it wasn't sitting well. Damian had proven, _shown,_ he was trying to make it right and yet he was constantly being shut out and questioned at every turn. By the people he'd sworn to protect, even. Todd wouldn't prove any easier he knew that, but Damian refused to lose anything or anyone he didn't have to. He didn't _want_ to.

Damian refused to lose control.

Dick's eyes didn't leave his, but the color, the intensity was gone. Hollow, lifeless and cold. Dead, Dick looked...

 _No.._

Dick wasn't..

With a fury, a sudden need to prove it to himself, to prove what he already knew, but needed to feel, Damian swept forth and grabbed the smaller man. Grabbed his wrists as if to secure him, though Dick didn't make it easy.

It was moments like these, when Dick wasn't thinking straight, when Damian's very touch seemed to cause something to snap, it was now that Damian's worry turned to anger.

After it all, Dick, Tim and even Pennyworth still fought him.

Dick squirmed and fought and Damian's blood boiled.

Damian was the master of this house, this whole _damned_ City, and he made the rules.

Dick wasn't going to leave him. Not like Bruce, not like his damn father and his blind justice, Dick would stay with him. _Always._

Todd could be the key, once Damian learned the secret, what his grandfather could no longer tell him, Damian could repair Dick. Even if it took that moron Jason Todd to help him, Damian was determined. The wild erratic behavior, it had to stop. Before Dick snapped completely.

"Enough."

Dick's struggles stopped and the color returned to his eyes, along with a look of trepidation, "Damian I.."

Damian silenced him. A finger to the lips and a sweep towards the bed. He didn't want it to be like this, to see that fear in those blue eyes, feel the panic Dick couldn't hide. Damian never wanted any of this. He wanted that smile, the bad jokes, the adoration, the Dick Grayson Damian had grown to care for. The man he trusted, _loved_ more than his own flesh and blood.

Damian wanted _more_ than this.

Much more.

Dick was stiff and still felt cold, but his skin was soft and smelled of the rain and the mixture of flesh as the blanket fell put a burn in Damian's stomach. The skin slowly warmed under the fire in Damian's touch and soon, like the passing of winter, Dick began to thaw.

Damian waited for the day Dick's touch was more than just thawed, but warm, comforting and familiar again.

Like it used to be.

Like Dick used to be.

The day he could feel Dick as he should be and not as the shell of a man Dick had become.

* * *

Tim wasn't sure what he was expecting, who he was expecting Damian would have found. Who the man had labeled so casually as _company_ , but really could have as easily meant baggage.

Whoever Tim could imagine, it certainly wasn't..

..not this...

..not _him_...

Tim wasn't expecting him.

He knew there should be some kind of relief that he actually knew the person in the bed, but all Tim could feel was anger. Anger and a deep, deep sadness. Like the world was crumbling, falling apart all over again.

Suddenly everything and nothing made any sense.

How?

 _Why?_

All Tim could do was hope his eyes were deceiving him. Depicting a person he'd signed off as dead long ago merely as some kind of cruel joke.

Why else would Jason Todd be here, alive and breathing, if not a bit worse for wear?

"Alfred, is that, is that really?" Tim had to ask, had to make sure he wasn't seeing things, "Is that really him?"

Alfred gave a stiff nod.

Tim wasn't sure how, but things had gone from the possibility of being bad to much, _much_ worse.

"Why Alfred? Why would he bring him here?" It made no sense, any of it. Jason begin alive or Damian bringing him here.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Alfred shook his head, "But I fear we'll soon find out."

Tim sighed, "That's what I was afraid of."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

 _The blood red sun devoured everything._

 _Violet. Her beautiful violet eyes. Her eyes and his freckles. Both of them were covered in red. The red of the sun._

 _Kory was dead and Roy was gone-the sun devoured them both._

 _He had no one left. He'd been abandoned._

 _Abandoned and forgotten._

 _Alone._

 _No._

 _Not Alone._

 _A plea, muddled as if underwater and far away. A shot from a gun, his gun. A refusal that rang louder than any gunfire. A dark form pushing and pulling, clawing against him, begging him with inhuman sounds. He outran their grasp just as the sun devoured them too._

 _Alone again._

 _Then the sun erupted and became the moon._

 _Cold, dark. Like an endless pool filled with ice. Spikes of cold dark blue. Eyes that watched and sneered. A face he wanted to forget, but couldn't. A name that burned his lips._

 _Nightwing was there, but he was-he wasn't right. Too big, too broad, too not Dick._

 _Not Dick-_

 _Damian._

 _Christ, it was-he needed to-  
_

 _Wake up, dammit._

His eyes shot open and Jason gasped for breath.

"Jesus," A voice hissed in surprise.

Jason turned. A young man sat beside the bed, hair buzzed so close to the scalp it was barely visible. His wide blue eyes stared at Jason in bewilderment.

 _Dick?_ Jason almost said the name-but realized that wasn't right. This face was too thin, too thin and pointy. Not quite pretty enough. Close maybe, but _not_ quite.

Not Dick- _Tim_ , Tim Drake. The replacement. Older and bigger, but still not quite Dick. Just like Jason-never quite Dick.

Jason groaned, voice hoarse and too dry, " _Christ_. Please let this be a nightmare." He sat up and felt his muscles protest as he did.

Tim's frown was Jason's first answer. The furrow of his brow as he just _looked_ at Jason, "I'm not exactly leaping for joy either."

The response was full of acid, which startled Jason a bit. He half expected he was still dreaming, but Tim's annoyance sounded very real, "Damn, you're real right? Like really here? I'm not see things, am I?"

"Trust me, I can honestly say I've never been less happy to see you, but yes Jason," Tim sighed, "I'm real."

Jason still didn't believe it, "You're alive?" He tested cautiously, almost tempted to touch the younger man just to make sure.

Tim sighed again, this time with a weak smile he didn't feel, "Yes Jason I'm-" he stumbled over the word, "- _alive_."

"Al, he's-"

"Alive too."

The thought of the old butler, still kicking after all this time, made Jason both worried and happy. Worried that Damian might being doing something cruel to the family butler, but happy he was still around. Apparently the old man _was_ indestructible, just as Jason had always imagined.

Tim put his worries to rest, "He's fine Jason. We're both fine."

Which was obviously a lie. Nothing about any of this looked or felt anywhere near _fine_ in Jason's book.

"Bruce-is he?"

Tim's face tightened with a stiff head shake. "I don't know."

Jason sighed, that seemed to be the consensus anymore. Dick-or rather Damian nor Tim, no one knew the whereabouts of Batman or Bruce Wayne. "How long was I out?"

Tim paused, "About a day."

Jason blinked. That couldn't be right. "A day?"

"I think Damian may have given you a sedative," Tim shrugged. Dark circles were under his eyes and he looked exhausted.

"Have you been sitting here the whole time?"

Tim shook his head, "Not all of it. Alfred and I took turns."

Jason looked around, ignoring the slight throb still present at the back of his skull. He looked at the bed, the room, the place in general and came away with the answer of his location quite quickly. A place he'd tried to put out of his head for years. Wayne Manor. Seemed Damian was nothing if not sentimental.

A sentimental _nut_ job.

The thought brought a wave of anger, "Where is he? Where is that _son on a bitch_?"

A flash of something- _fear_ maybe- flared in Tim's eyes. He waved his hands as if to quiet him. "Stop it," He fisted his hands to his mouth as if stifling saying something, "God please, don't do this Jason." It sounded like a plea, small and sad.

"Don't do what?"

Tim's blue eyes reverted to him, shining with sadness and pain, "Don't-be _you_. Don't fight with him. Please don't make this harder on yourself. On us. This is a battle you won't win. Not here."

Jason glared at him, "That _freak_ is running around pretending to be Dick," he shot back, "He's got a damn costume and a stand up routine and everything."

Tim's mouth tightened, "I know."

"And you're okay with that?" Jason was a bit surprised by Tim's acceptance of such a thing. "You don't think that's the least bit odd? Or you know, _bat shitting_ insane?"

"It doesn't matter _what_ it is," Tim mumbled, "Just leave it alone."

"Leave it alone?" Jason frowned, "That doesn't sound like the Tim Drake I know."

Tim laughed, bitter and tight, "I suppose it doesn't. Then again, I guess the world ending as we know it can change a person," He shrugged as if it didn't matter.

"What the hell happened here?" Were Damian, Tim and Alfred really all that was left of the bats? "What happened to everyone else?"

Tim swallowed, "They fought and," His voice was small, "they _failed_. We all did."

Seemed _failing_ was a pretty regular thing anymore. "I thought you were dead for sure," Jason said, "all of you."

"I figured the same for you," Tim sounded tired, "Or I hoped you'd have the sense enough to stay away and I'd never have to see you _here_. That at least _one_ of us would escape this," He motioned around them, " _him_ ," He hissed the word, " _Somehow_."

After a moment of contemplation, pondering why there was such sorrow behind all Tim's words, Jason admitted, "He tricked me. I thought he was Dick and trust me if you didn't know any better, you'd have thought so to. Like I said, he's insane."

Tim's mouth thinned, "Trust me Jason, I know what he is and I do _know_ better about Dick." He stiffened. Saying Dick's name seemed to pain him.

"Is Dick-"

"Please don't ask me that Jason. _Please_ ," Tim looked away, his blue eyes were filled with agony. Jason's heart pulled a bit. Seemed no one had been saved from the pain of loss. He'd lost his team and so had Tim. Everyone had lost someone.

" _Shit_." Dick was dead and Damian had taken Jason's guilt and used it against him. Jason had played right into the bastard's hands. Played him for the damn fool. "What does Damian want? He went to a pretty great length to play dress up and screw with my head, so what's his end game? Why bring me here?"

"I-he doesn't really tell me-" Tim stops, "I'm not exactly his confidant, Jason."

"What _are_ you then? He must keep you around for a reason."

Tim's eyes widened and Jason swallowed on impulse.

 _God. No._

Tim rolled his shoulder nervously and Jason's suspicions rose. He fought back a wave or nausea as his mind went to a place Jason couldn't, _didn't_ want to fathom. A place not even someone as psychotic as Damian would ever go. Or at least Jason hoped not. "Shit, I didn't mean-"

"No. It's not-" Tim didn't meet his gaze, "It's okay." Something remained unsaid, but Jason didn't press him.

"I'll _kill_ him."

"No Jason, you can't." Tim rushed.

"Yes I can." It was obvious Damian had done _something_ to Tim. The pale young man looked on the verge of collapse. Tim and Alfred, they were supposed to be Damian's allies, weren't they? Unless Damian _really_ had flipped sides after killing Dick Grayson, which was looking more and more to be the case, "I'm gonna kill him. And we're going to get out of here. You, me and Alfred."

Tim barked out a laugh so ugly it hurt, "Don't you see?" Tim's eyes were weary and worn and a little pitying as he asked with exasperation, "Don't you get it?"

"I've seen the world out there, Tim," Jason shot back, annoyed at the condescension, "Believe me I _fucking_ get it."

" _No_ -" Tim choked the word, "No Jason, you don't. You don't get it at all."

Jason took his first good look at the young man.

Tim looked thin. Not deadly thin to the point of emaciation, just weak and brittle, like a man who hadn't seen life or sun (or the blood colored imposter posing as the sun these days) in quite awhile. He looked like a prisoner, which Jason assumed he very much was. A prisoner who looked like he was surviving, but _just_.

"When was the last time you went outside, Tim? You may think this is bad." Jason stomped off the bed, ignoring the slight bout of dizziness moving so fast gave him, "But it's not exactly paradise out there-" Jason pulled the curtains back on the window and took a step back at what he saw, "What the hell?"

A giant slab of metal was sealed over the window. It was solid and didn't look like it couldn't easily be moved, if it could be moved at all. It may have been a defensive thing, Bruce was always a bit paranoid, but it felt more menacing than that. The first word that popped into Jason's mind was _trapped_.

"Are they all like this?"

Suddenly the walls felt a bit closer together.

"I honestly don't know."

Jason turned to Tim, "You've never seen this before?" But Tim didn't look surprised enough for that.

Tim shook his head, "No, I meant-The last time I went outside," His words were just above a whisper, "I honestly don't know, Jason."

It was an answer to so many questions, questions Jason hadn't even thought of yet. Tim looked caged, like a broken animal who had no hope of ever leaving it's prison.

"You can't leave, can you?"

Tim's eyes were blank, a small eerie smile on his face, "No Jason, I can't." It almost sounded like sarcasm, which seemed severely out of place.

"You will," Jason assured him, boldly if not a bit blindly, with a bit too much certainty, "We both- _all_ will." Jason certainly wasn't staying here, that was for sure.

Tim's mouth ticked in a mockery of a smile, "See, you still _don't_ get it Jason. You really don't get it."

Jason rounded on him, "Stop saying that!"

"We can't leave Jason. Me and Alfred we're here to stay," Tim gave no further explanation, if there _was_ one, which undoubtedly there _was_ , he was clearly hiding it.

Jason crossed his arms, "And what about me?"

Tim looked at Jason as if he were seeing through him, watching the door behind him and then glancing to the barred window in contempt, "If you can find a way out," he shrugged mildly, "be my guest."

It sounded like years of bitter defeat talking. But Jason wasn't giving up that easy. He wanted answers. _Now_. "Where is that suit stealing _bastard_ anyway? Or is he too afraid to come and face me?" Jason would just love to mark up that handsome face some more. Maybe bust out a tooth or two.

Tim moved his hands up and down as if to silence him, "Jason, he can hear you-"

Jason knew that. He waved Tim away. His voice got louder as he searched for the hidden camera, no doubt somewhere in the room. He held his arms out as he proclaimed, "Well come on then. You're obviously watching, baby bat so come down from your mighty throne and talk to me already. Unless you really are scared, too afraid to finish what you've started. Come on _Nightwing_ ," he oozes the name with sarcasm, "Show me your balls have actually dropped. Be a fucking man."

Tim's eyes were huge and disbelieving, "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"If you think I'm gonna wait around for that arrogant prick to-"

He was cut off by a very polite, yet pointed cough. Jason's eyes flew to the door and in turn the frail looking man dressed in a butler's suit. Jason didn't, _couldn't_ possibly put the name he associated with the once proud Wayne family butler to the thin, old man standing there. In a suit that now looked too big on him Alfred Pennyworth's skin was cracked and pulled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jason's anger boiled, he was going to take whatever pain these two had suffered out of Damian's hide himself. Messing with Tim was one thing, messing with Al that was-

"The master will see you both in the dining room." Alfred's voice was clipped, but there was a hidden relief in the old man's eyes when he looked at Jason.

Jason steeled himself. Soon, this would be over and Alfred would never have to take another order from Damian Wayne ever again. Jason would make _sure_ of that. "Well we wouldn't want to keep the _master_ waiting, now would we?" He twisted his head back on a bewildered looking Tim, "Let's go Timmy."

A laugh escaped that may have been forced as Jason used Dick's, or more recently Damian's, favorite word, "Looks like it's time for a little _family_ reunion."

* * *

Damian toyed with the stem of his wine glass.

Trust Jason Todd to make a spectacle of himself. The man wanted to talk. Fine. Damian would talk.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the task ahead, dealing with Todd wasn't something he relished the idea of, but it was a bit hard to focus on anything with Dick constantly shifting next to him.

His hair, Dick wouldn't stop messing with his damn hair. Whether it was a sign of anxiousness or because it kept constantly falling in the older man's face, his fidgeting was irritating Damian to no end. The midnight colored tresses were getting a bit longer than Damian liked and he'd have Pennyworth take care of that later, but right now-

 _Damian crossed his arms, brow raised, "Why do you insist on wearing your hair so long?" He didn't understand Dick Grayson's fashion choices at all. Everything about the man was all wrong. Not at all the warrior his father was, Dick Grayson was light and colorful and acted like a damn clown. He was a buffoon and Damian didn't understand his appeal in the slightest, "Isn't that impractical?"_

 _A grin, filled with pearly whites and a laugh, as if Damian had somehow made a joke, "Are you kidding? Trust me when I say nothing gets you noticed faster than good hair," Dick swept his hair back as if to prove his point. At twelve, Damian didn't get it and he doubted he ever would. He thought longer hair made Grayson look weak and a bit like a woman._

 _Dick continued to grin, "You want practical talk to Bruce. You want style, I'm your man."_

Damian took Dick's hand, stilling the movements and grounding himself back with the other man's warmth. Now wasn't the time for such memories. "Nervous?" He asked, not unkindly.

Dick looked a bit sheepish as he admitted, with a small shrug, "Kind of."

"Trust me, you have absolutely nothing to be worried about."

Dick nodded and bit his lip, but he looked unconvinced. "It's just," He hesitated and Damian could feel the tension of Dick wanting to pull away his hand away so he rubbed his thumb against Dick's knuckles until the other man relaxed somewhat. "What if they don't remember me?"

The question was a bit of a surprise, but Damian kept an even expression despite his slight shock. "Alfred remembered you," he pointed out.

"But Tim. What if-?" Dick sounded forlorn as he looked at the table with troubled eyes, "-what if he doesn't?" His voice fell somewhat, "It's been so long, what if he's forgotten me?"

Pushing past the irony of Dick worrying about anyone forgetting him instead of the other way around, Damian couldn't help a frown. How long had it been since Dick had last seen Tim or Alfred? Surely not that long. Perhaps Dick was losing his sense of time along with everything else? That certainly made the most amount of sense.

"I know for a fact that no one here will ever forget you, Dick Grayson," Damian gave his hand a small squeeze, "Especially me."

The return smile was small, but sincere. Still, it felt like Dick was only half there, as if part of him were somewhere else. Dick's lips kept pursing and his eyes refused to remain focused on any one thing. He was still-distracted.

The new ticks were even worse than the hair pulling.

Damian's free hand moved to rest against Dick's cheek, trying to center the other man's eyes on him. _Only_ him. Finding that blue gaze, he murmured, as reassuringly as he could. "It's okay."

Slipping his thumb to catch the fullness of Dick's lower lip, Damian felt the first stirring of something _real_ at the touch.

Dick's breath quickened, but he didn't jerk away. Their eyes remained focused and Dick's gaze was fully on him. It was beautiful, Dick was-

Dick Grayson was a fool. An absolute fool who made brash statements and played by the notion of act first, think later. Loyal to a fault and utterly aggravating to everything Damian Wayne stood for. Too flashy, too loud, too ready to throw himself at the first sense of danger without a second thought. Too thick to be worthy of the title _mentor_ , much less be someone he would ever willingly follow.

Dick was-

Dick Grayson was the first person to ever truly comfort him. The first time Damian thought he'd lost Bruce-before his father had written him off and essentially disowned him-Dick had been there for him. Even when he'd pushed the older man away, calling him names and ridiculing his choices after Grayson took up his father's mantle. Through it all, Dick refused to give into Damian's _admittedly_ childish tantrums. Bruce had come back and Damian realized in switching one Batman for another, he'd never quite gotten over losing Dick as a partner. Through no sense of any kind of logic, it became the substitute Damian longed for, not the original.

Dick was-

had become-

Damian hadn't realized it at first. It wasn't until it was too late. Til Damian watched Dick crumble and fall, til he saw all that crimson soaking the floor, filling the cracks beneath his feet. Til Damian slipped in it in his haste to help. Til the _stream,_ small at first quickly become a river of red _._ Dick's blood, never ending and flowing so freely. Damian waded in it, trying everything he could. Everything, but it wasn't enough-

"Damian?"

Damian wasn't sure which had been worse. Watching the life leave Dick's eyes or watching it return. He tried not to think of either. Tried to keep himself in the present not the past. He couldn't change what happened. But he could change the here, the now.

Because Damian would never forget Dick Grayson.

"Damian, Please. You're-"

The pressure of his grip as his hand had moved from Dick's mouth to the lowest point of the man's neck was tight. Damian wasn't sure when or how his hand had fallen, but Dick squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke in what was more a gasp. Pain Damian realized. Dick's eyes read of pain. Too stunned at first to realize it was _him_ causing the pain in Dick's voice and eyes, Damian finally released his hand.

Dick looked dazed and forlorn and completely out of sorts. Damian felt the same, even if he didn't show it. Damian withdrew his hand and his gaze, he studied the table suddenly feeling a bit sick and it was Dick's hesitant touch to his arm that sent the wine glass crashing across the room.

Damian withheld a curse. He'd wanted to destroy _something_ and it may as well have been Bruce's best crystal. Damian wanted to watch it crack into a hundred shiny shards. Wanted the accursed thing to break and shatter against the wall. Wanted something to break that was in his _control_ to break. The responsibility, the burden keeping them, keeping Gotham safe, it was his and he took it willingly, but he needed to alleviate his frustrations. Somehow.

It wasn't enough. The destroying of one simple wine glass was hardly enough.

Damian wanted, _needed_ more. His left hand quivered and balled into a fist. The first thing he caught, before he could upended the table or do anything worse to damage the room was Dick. Dick's mouth, plush and agape. Dick. The perfect outlet for his anger to turn to something else. The world seemed to spin with the ferocity of their meeting and Damian's hands snaked the front of Dick's shirt, not to _trap-never_ trap, but to steady the smaller man against him.

It might have been that he knew, that Damian could somehow sense the door opening before it did. Or maybe it was simply a twist of fate and it just happened to be at that moment Jason Todd was _meant_ to make his entrance.

"If this is why you brought me here, you should know-I'm not exactly into three ways, Damian."

Loud and obnoxious, hearing the voice curled Damian's lip as he pulled away.

"If you and your little boy toy are done perhaps-"

Getting to watch the look of dawning, the realization that hit Jason's face as he paled to an almost ghost like state was more than worth the interruption. Truthfully, Damian couldn't have planned it any better. Todd was getting the picture first hand and sometimes, more often than not in Damian's opinion, it truly was easier to show than tell.

Todd, was eloquent-as always.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

If he were to compile a list of things Jason _never_ wanted to see, watching Damian Wayne swap spit with _anyone_ would definitely be near if not _at_ the very top.

The way Damian touched and held the other man, whose back was to Jason, was way too possessive to be considered romantic. The scene rubbed Jason the wrong way. He placed the blame mostly on his mind's eye and seeing a tween aged Damian and the word sex together, which sent shivers up Jason's spine. Watching Damian devour another man like it meant his next breath of survival was more than a bit unnerving.

"If this is why you brought me here, you should know-I'm not exactly into three ways, Damian."

That got Damian's attention. Two blue eyes bore knives at him, deadly sharp and not at all humored.

Not that Jason was trying for a laugh.

"If you and your little boy toy are done perhaps-"

He stopped. The shaggy dark head turned and who looked at who first was an argument Jason could save in his head for later. Not that it mattered. Because, Jason was pretty sure he was looking at what was _supposed_ to be a dead man.

"What the fuck?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  


* * *

Death.

Jason remembered death-sort of.

He remembered the darkness, the never-ending void of nothingness, the feeling of pain so unbearable his body no longer registered it as everything around and within him turned white. Jason remembered that one last slow labored breath, that horrible and yet oddly relieving feeling of knowing it was finally over, finally fucking done. He remembered it all, then-nothing.

Nothing but darkness.

Dick's eyes, the bright blue orbs that once made many a woman, man, hell even fucking aliens, fall to his every whim, Dick's eyes were gone. Pits of darkness, nothingness, Dick's eyes were dead.

Dick was dead.

Jason's stomach churned.

 _No. Not dead._

Dick's wasn't dead.

Numbness, a feeling that his whole body couldn't properly process, every nerve stood on end. Jason's body was a fiery cold of raw ends, his mouth drier than any desert. Dick wasn't dead, but this was-

 _No._

Damian's hand, latched onto Dick like some kind of claw, refusing to let go.

 _Jesus. No._

The goading smirk, Damian Wayne stood tall and imposing, just like his father had, but there was a predatory gleam in his eyes that had never quite been in Bruce's. Like a hunter showcasing his prize catch.

 _Fucking hell._

Blue eyes stared at Jason, dull and lifeless. Slowly they moved, studying, brows crinkled, looking but not quite seeing.

Dead.

Jason's mouth was clenched so hard, his teeth could have ground under the pressure. He wasn't sure if he should believe what he was seeing. Surely this was some kind of sick fucking joke. Damian and Dick, fucking kissing-

Dick's thin face was far too pale and drawn. Black hair, sloppy and not at all with its usual luster, he looked small, especially when compared to Damian, though that could have been more from Damian's dominating dark shadow that seemed to fill the whole room. Truthfully, Damian wasn't that much bigger than Dick, although just like Tim, Dick was far too thin.

Too thin and goddamn those dead fucking eyes.

 _Jason! Please-"_

Jason gulped at the growing lump in his throat.

 _"Jason!"_

How many times had Dick called his name, begging, pleading, sobbing for him to help?

 _-we need you!-_

How easy had it been to ignore the cries?

 _-I need you!-_

So easy and yet-

"Jason?"

Blue eyes met and Jason stared. So many emotions he could and couldn't place became so jumbled it hurt just to look at the older man. It was all so fucking wrong, it was almost painful. Dick wasn't dead, but fucking hell if he didn't look like he was.

Jason's fist clenched in anger.

Damian, what had fuck had he done to these people? Dick looked so pale and hollow, so damn broken and lifeless in every way. Dick, Alfred, Tim, they all looked like goddamn ghosts.

Jason was about to speak, saying what he wasn't sure yet, when something snapped and everything about Dick seemed to morph into something else. Something much more tortured and terrible. Dick's face twisted and the pools of anguish seemed to spill over as Dick began to shout.

"No!"

Jason nearly jumped at the outburst. Dick was slowly backing away, looking around as if spooked by something.

"No, stay away!"

Jason barely had time to think, much less react.

He looked at Damian, who seemed just as bewildered as Jason felt. Jason raised a hand in peace, "Dick, calm down, I'm not-"

"No please no!" Dick shook his head, he bucked forward as if to escape, but Damian's hold was iron tight.

Jason stood, transfixed and utterly confused. Jesus Christ what was Dick doing? Jason swallowed, "Dick, I don't-"

"No!" Dick squirmed and fought, clawing as he tried desperately to get away from Damian.

Dick Grayson, Dick, _let's all hold hands and sing kumbaya_ , Grayson had obviously snapped

Jason could only stare in horror, not sure what was worse. Listening to the broken cry of Dick's voice or watching him trying to escape like a cornered animal ready to gnaw its own arm off.

Dick looked unlike anything Jason had ever seen before. It was more than hysterical.

It was terrifying.

Jason held up his hands in a calming motion, "Whoa there, Dickie. Calm down," he turned back to Tim. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

The panic in Tim's head shake was answer enough to say he didn't know.

Dick's fought further at the sound of Jason's voice, he grabbed and tried to push past Damian with an expression of such madness, Jason took another shocked step back. It was wild, severe, and altogether savage.

Everyone seemed in shock as they watched the eldest of the ex-robins struggle as if he were fighting for his life.

Damian barely managed to hold the raging man back even as Dick fought against the restraint.

Jesus Christ.

Jason stood back while Tim made a sickening croak and Alfred gasped. Damian tried to appear calm, but it was obvious he was just as perplexed by the reaction, barely managing to hold Dick at bay. Dick's face twisted under his unkempt hair, it was far too animalistic and Jason was ready to intervene.

Damian finally grabbed Dick, pulling the man's face to meet his own. "Dick." Dick jerked in the hold, trying desperately to escape, pushing at Damian's hands to release him. "Dick, calm down."

Jason watched it all with a feeling of nausea and severe confusion, for only as Damian said the words, soft and reassuring, did Dick finally seem to calm.

Jason had no clue what he was witnessing, but he sure as hell didn't like it.

"Please don't send me back there, please Damian, don't-I can't-"

Dick's voice broke into a sob and it was only as Damian continued to hold him, refusing to let Dick look at anything but him, that Dick finally seemed to lose steam. He sagged and gasped. Dick's dark head fell against Damian's chest and the man continued to sob, "It's-I can't -" he mumbled incoherently.

Damian shushed him and pulled him in an embrace that looked surprisingly gentle. He smoothed the back of Dick's head soothingly, "It's okay. Shh, it's okay."

"No," Dick shook his head. "I've-he-I-what did I do wrong? I'm sorry I won't-"

"Dick, calm down," Damian pulled Dick up to face him. "You didn't do anything wrong. Calm down." Damian brushed a kiss on his forehead, "I told you, I won't ever let anything happen to you."

Which was about when Jason decided he'd seen enough. Watching Dick snivel against Damian was almost as sickening as listening to Damian coo back. The kiss though, that was the final nail in the coffin. This was severely fucked up, in more ways than one.

It took all Jason's strength not charge over and rip the two apart, never mind Dick obviously being terrified of him for some reason. This was fucking madness and not something Jason wanted to be a part of. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Damian's eyes were cold fury, "I don't recall giving you permission to speak."

"Don't recall ever needing it," Jason shot back. "I don't know what kind of funny factory you're running here Mr. Big Shot, but this is-"

"What did I just say?" Damian demanded. He clearly had his hands full with Dick's out of place weeping and couldn't deal with Jason like he obviously wanted to. Surprisingly, Dick seemed to have all of Damian's attention and though his anger was obvious through his clenched jaw, not until Dick seemed calm enough to stand on his own, alongside help from Alfred, did Damian finally turn to Jason.

Jason wasn't sure why the scene made him feel ill, but it did.

Damian took a monstrous step towards him, eyes cold and angry.

Tim's voice broke through, the first thing he'd said since they'd arrived, "He remembered you," he gasped.

"Remembered me?" Jason asked as he turned to him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He hasn't remembered anyone since-," Tim fell off; looking awed and worried at the same time. "He didn't remember our names or even who he was after-"

Jason blinked when Tim didn't continue, "After? After what?"

Damian stared stonily at Tim and the man shrunk back as if struck.

Jason looked at Dick, who was staring at the ground; face all but covered in limp, black hair. He looked young and distracted. Toying with his hands like a child lost in a conversation he didn't understand. Jason took a step towards him.

A black shadow immediately blocked him, Damian's eyes were nothing but a menacing slice of blue in the dimly lit room, "Don't even think about it," he seethed.

"I'm not fucking blind, Damian. It doesn't take a genius to see something's wrong with him. And I'm willing to bet the problem's standing right in front of me. Move out of the damn way."

"No," Damian replied. "You will not touch or speak to him unless I tell you to."

"That seems to be a big rule around here, you telling everyone what they can and can't do," Jason noted with sarcasm. "Do you get to tell us when we can take a shit too? Move out the way."

"He's not-"

"He's not a thing Damian, stop talking about him like he isn't there and move out of the goddamn way."

"It's obvious your presence bothers him," Damian pointed out. His eyes were full of nothing but hatred and insinuation, his brows furrowed. "This was obviously a mistake, bringing you here."

"First reasonable thing you've said all fucking day," Jason agreed. "I don't know what kind of sick shit you've been doing, but if you don't move out the fucking way I'll-"

Like a flash, the front of Jason's shirt was gripped savagely as Damian reared his canines at him, all but growling as he sneered, "You'll what, Todd?"

Jason returned the gesture with a sneer of his own. "Is this really how you want to do this D-man? You want me to kick your ass in front of your little subjects here? All you have to do is say so."

"I didn't bring you here for this, Todd," Damian gritted out.

"Then why did you bring me here, huh? Enlighten me, Master Wayne," Jason spat back. "Did you want to show off your broken bat toys, share the secrets of Stockholm syndrome? What Damian? Why am I here? What the fuck could you possibly want from me?"

"I didn't bring you here because I wanted to," Damian eyes narrowed, "No matter my father-Bruce's, misguided attempts to help trash like you. You never belonged here."

"And yet here I am," Jason pointed out. "Kind of conflicting messages, don't you think," He pouted, "And I always thought I was daddy's favorite."

Damian released him with a scowl. "Bruce Wayne was a fool."

"You know, there's a saying about an apple and a tree-"

"Now is really not the time to be testing my patience with your inane nonsense, Todd," Damian warned.

"Then tell me what the hell is going on." Jason motioned to Dick, Alfred was trying to talk to him, but Dick hardly seemed to hear him. His eyes kept sliding to Jason's, shifty and distracted. They moved away and back a bit too erratically and Jason half expected him to start screaming again at any moment. "You can start with that. I'm hoping you found him that way because I swear if you caused that-"

"It was an accident. Nothing more."

Jason frowned; did Damian honestly expect him to believe that? "Accident?" he almost laughed. "What like he fell down the stairs and hit his head?"

Damian glowered, but didn't respond.

Jason looked over at Tim, but he was avoiding his glance. Jason frowned, "Look, I know Dick's not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, but I hardly believe he fell over his own feet and that's why he's suddenly coo-coo for coco pops."

"I don't really care what you believe-"

"Blow me Damian, I know fucking unstable when I see it." That crazed look, it wasn't from some accidental hit on the head. Something had happened to Dick, Jason just didn't know what.

"Master Damian," Alfred cut in. "I believe this type of conversation might be better finished at another time." Alfred clearly meant when Dick wasn't present. Jason frowned, but had to agree. He could hardly say anything about Damian treating Dick like an object when he himself was talking about Dick in the same way-as if he wasn't standing right fucking there.

Standing and staring like a goddamn loon.

Damian wanted to rebuke Alfred for speaking out of turn, that much was obvious, but for whatever reason, probably because Dick was standing not too far off, looking like he was about to flee or possibly collapse, he didn't.

"As I said this isn't why I brought you here," Damian stated a bit too calmly, straightening himself as if he were preparing for a business meeting and he hadn't just grabbed Jason with every intention of murder in his eyes. "We shouldn't start off this way."

"Start off what way?" Jason pondered at him, before answering his own question snidely. "Oh you mean by tricking, kidnapping and imprisoning people, is that how we shouldn't start off?"

"You are not a prisoner."

That actually made Jason laugh, "Right, so if I wanted to leave right now, get up and go, you'd be cool with that? No problems, just see ya later and a hope I outlive the apocalypse before you do."

Damian crossed his arms, "I don't think you understand what I'm giving you."

Jason pointed at him, "What you're giving me is a damn headache."

"No," Damian corrected sternly. "What I'm giving you is a chance to live, to start over, to never have to be afraid-"

"Save the speech for the cameras Damian, I'm not interested-"

"Will you shut your damn mouth and listen for once?" Damian snapped. He gestured at the room around them, but his reach was obviously meant for the entirety of the manor, "This place is a haven for anyone who resides here." Damian shook his head, "This isn't a prison, its protection."

"Protection?" another laugh that made Damian's first clench. "The world's already gone to shit and you think this," Jason motioned around them," is going to protect anybody? I don't think the Man of Steel will be kept out by a couple of walls Damian, so unless you've got some kryptonite hiding somewhere-" knowing Bruce, he probably did.

"It's all been destroyed," Damian replied tersely. "I'm not trying to keep him out, not that I would need to, he trusts me-" the bitterness is apparent in every word. Blue eyes turned dark as Damian added. "I'd think you'd be a bit more grateful, I could have just as easily turned you over."

An interesting point, "Why didn't you?"

Damian's eyes immediately went to Dick before zipping back so quickly Jason wondered if he'd merely imagined it. The look was what Jason could best describe as-Jesus Christ, was that-longing? No, no matter how fast or how short a glance, Jason knew what he'd seen. Dick, all this had something to do with Dick.

But what?

Either way one thing was clear, "You need me."

Damian's eyes flashed on him like lightening.

"Don't play this protector bullshit on me Damian; you couldn't give two shits what happens to me. You'd wrap me up in a damn red bow and hand me over to _Superpapa_ in a heartbeat if you could." It was obvious the rumors were true, Damian Wayne had shunned his father (or was it the other way around) and joined the regime fully intent on killing people who didn't fight for their cause. People like Jason. "You didn't bring me here for some bull sentimentality, you need me. So why don't we save the song and dance and you tell me what it is you really want."

Damian's lips became a thin, bloodless line. "That is a conversation for a later time," he said, mimicking Alfred's earlier statement like he'd somehow thought of it himself. "In the meantime, I assume we can all manage a civil meal together."

Jason wanted to knock every one of those perfect white teeth from Damian's head, still, he had to admit, the idea of real food had a huge appeal right about now. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had some of Alfred's cooking. Too damn long.

"Only if you promise it's not poisoned."

This time it was Alfred who looked affronted, "Certainly not."

Jason snickered, it was funny. It was funny and yet-Dick's eyes were still on him-that haunted gauze that killed any humor to be found-so fucking _not_.

* * *

Jason-

Where had the name come from? Why had he said it?

Why did he feel like he _knew_ Jason?

All the questions hurt to think about. His head hurt, but Damian told him that was good.

 _Breathe through it, calm down._

He'd felt relief at using the name Jason, unafraid for a moment-

-till he saw the darkness.

Jason was the darkness.

He tried, he tried to get away. He tried, but he couldn't.

 _Weak, useless._

Two arms holding him-Damian, Damian wouldn't let him go. Why wouldn't he let him go?

 _What had he done?_

Dark, it was always so dark. The blackness, the place he couldn't escape. He tried and tried, but the darkness never let him go. Tearing, ripping, pulling everything from him. Over and over again.

It hurt. It always hurt.

He'd tried so hard, but it hurt, it hurt to try and remember and Damian would get so angry and now-

-now he'd brought the darkness.

 _It's okay-shh-_

Was it? Damian thought so, but Damian had brought the darkness.

The darkness was here for him.

But what had he done?

haven't done anything-

But he had-he must have.

Try harder, be stronger. He had to show Damian he could do it. He could do better. He could. He had to or the darkness would take him. Damian would give him to the darkness.

Again.

Jason- the name came so easily, but the darkness-why did he have the darkness-calling to him, forever calling.

 _The same, we're the same._

Jason-the darkness wanted to take him. To take him back home. Take him back to the dark he couldn't escape from.

Back to where he belonged.

* * *

The whole thing was nauseating and he was sure the room had gotten colder, darker and drearier. Physically Tim was famished, but try as he might, he just couldn't bring himself to eat very much. Dinner was spent pretty much in silence. Jason uselessly tried goading Damian into explanations and even threw a few one liners at Dick, who only seemed to shudder every time Jason so much as looked at him. Overall Tim left feeling hungrier and more exhausted than he'd started.

Damian had finally had enough and it was obvious Dick was too excited to focus on anything but Jason, which only made Damian even more upset and he soon put the manor on lock down and testily retired himself and Dick off to-Tim shuddered to think of it as Bruce's room. He didn't even want to fathom what secrets and possible horrors happened there and he refused to associate his mentor and father figure's name with such a place.

God, if only, if only he'd been stronger. If only he'd gone with Damian and Dick those years ago, if only, Tim thought on another pair of eyes, short dark hair and the younger face of the world's new ruler. He'd been so close to telling him, so close to proving how he felt, then, Tim bit his lip feeling the blood rush from the pressure- Kon, Kon was gone too. All his friends, his team, why did it still hurt this damn bad? Dammit, if only he could have saved someone.

Dick's breakdown had been, _horrible_ didn't even begin to describe it, and for a moment Tim actually thought Dick was going to kill himself in his own fear at seeing Jason. The irony of Damian, the real monster in all this, as Dick's savior was too sick for Tim to dwell on.

Sick, Tim felt-god what was _wrong_ with him? He should have stopped this long ago. This should never have happened. How had he let Damian, the new kid as he'd once been called, how had the youngest of them all become the top dog? Trapping them all under some delusional guise of protection, it seemed unfathomable.

Bruce, if only he was-

 _No_ , Tim couldn't keep hoping for something that was never going to happen.

Something warm hit his cheek. Tim reached up, shocked, angry and altogether embarrassed at himself for the moisture that hit his digits. Crying, why was he crying? He scowled at himself. Crying, what good would that do him? Absolutely nothing and he damn well knew it. All this time and he still felt the need to do the most useless and selfish thing he could. Sit and cry like it made a difference.

Like _he_ made a difference.

Two arms wrapped around him and for a moment he saw those blue eyes and that smile, the smile saved only for him, the voice that could boom so loud, yet be so soft. He wanted to bury himself in the hold forever, but it was wrong. The feel, the voice, and the eyes they were all wrong.

Tim shuddered back and away, but the hold only tightened. "Jason?" he gasped. "Jason, what are you-"

"I could hear you sniveling all the way in the other room," Jason murmured with hardly any heat.

Tim highly doubted that.

Jason sighed and Tim felt it in his ear, "Truth is you look like you need this. I mean you've been trapped in here with Lord Farling and his Stepford Wife and poor old Al, but when was the last time you felt another human being?" Tim could feel Jason smile. "I guess there's no real clean way to put that, is there?"

Tim laughed, despite himself.

Jason continued to hold him and Tim could have melted from the heat. Just being near another living person who was able to withstand his hold and not crumble apart, it felt so comforting and right. Alfred was so frail anymore and Jason felt like a rock, a sturdy, warm rock Tim could cling to.

Even if he felt unbelievably childish for doing so, Tim didn't care. He clung to Jason, tears still streaming down his face. God, how long had it been since someone had held him? Tim didn't even know.

Jason continued after a moment, his voice reverberating against Tim, "Dick looks terrible anyone could see that, but truthfully Tim, you're not looking all that much better. Trust me; I know how hard it is to be alone, when you can't touch something that's real. And I-Tim, I need you."

Tim froze and looked up in time to see Jason roll his eyes. "Not like that, you perv, I need your help."

Tim blinked at him, eyes stinging and red, "Help? Help with what?"

He knew he wasn't going to like the answer even before Jason said it, but even as he heard it, a mere whisper in his ear, Tim's stomach still bottomed out.

"You, me, Alfred and Dick, we're getting out of here," Jason said so only Tim could hear. "I've seen enough and something tells me the more I uncover, the less I'm gonna like it," Jason paused and Tim's heart hammered as he waited. "We're dethroning the king."

Something inside Tim suddenly filled his lungs and all he could do was sob in response. If it was because of hope or despair Tim didn't know.

What Tim did know is that for one night, even if it was just for a few short moments held in Jason's warmth and feeling safe, just for one second, Timothy Drake was grateful to have ever met Jason Todd.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

"He's come to take me."

The voice was a small crack in the silence of the room and for a moment Damian wasn't sure if it wasn't just his imagination.

It had been almost a day since Dick had spoken. Since the fiasco of seeing Jason Todd, Dick had grown even more reserved and withdrawn than Damian had ever seen him. Even touching Dick felt like placing his hand on a block of ice as thick as concrete. He tried his best, but it seemed not even a tender touch would rouse Dick from the mental prison of ice he'd locked himself inside.

Damian secretly worried he'd ruined everything he'd tried to build in a single night.

All thanks to Jason Todd.

Goddamn that foolish Todd to the seventh layer of hell. Of course he would come in and destroy Dick's barely kept wall just with his mere presence.

Dick's screaming, it had almost been as bad as that day, the first day. The day everything had changed, when Damian vowed he would change, would help the new rulers change this pathetic planet for the better.

The first day Damian had to keep Dick Grayson from bashing his own skull in.

 _Why?_

The word was all Dick knew, all the delusional man said for days on end, _why, why, why_? Every time he heard it, Damian's nails cut his palm from clenching his fist. Every time his heart clenched in a vice grip he could barely breathe through. His own name, who Damian was, Dick hadn't known either.

Dick hadn't known him, hadn't remembered Drake or Pennyworth either.

So why the hell would he remember the lowly scourge, the bottom feeder of their _supposed_ family? Why would Dick remember Jason Todd of all people?

It wasn't right.

Worse, it wasn't fair.

Damian turned to him. Dick sat on the side of the bed, wringing his hands and not looking at him. "I couldn't-I wasn't strong enough." His eyes finally looked up at Damian's, almost hesitantly. "It's my fault and I'm being punished."

"How many times do I-" Damian sighed. "Dick, I'm really not in the mood for this."

"He's here to take me," Dick continued. "Jason is-"

Damian couldn't stand it, hearing that _damn_ name come so easily from Dick's lips, something Damian had struggled with weeks to get Dick to do with his own, it made his blood boil. He latched his hands on the man's shoulders, leaning in so Dick could see the seriousness in his eyes.

Damian's teeth clicked, "Jason is nothing. He's dangerous and not like you me or Tim or Alfred. He's a mistake I never should have brought here. I want you to stay away from him."

Dick blinked at him, "But he-"

"He's not here to take you anywhere. You're not being punished, Dick," If anything Todd was punishing Damian with his mere existence. "Don't worry, I promise he won't ever hurt you-"

"I want him to."

Damian froze. His eyes wavered as he stared at the seated man in front of him, "What?"

"To take me back." Dick gave off the oddest smile that sent a chill right down Damian's spine. "I was afraid when I saw him, but it's alright, he's going to take me back." Dick laughed, and the sound was so distorted, Damian almost cringed at it. "We can go back together. This time it will be okay. I won't be alone. Even if I am being punished, Jason will-"

"Stop it!"

Damian hadn't meant to yell, but his frustrations were mounting too high to ignore anymore.

"Stop it right now!" Damian's grip either tightened or Dick's shoulders tensed, either way Damian's fingers met bone and it felt the smallest amount of pressure might snap Dick clean in two.

Damian didn't relent.

Dick's eyes widened before they fell and Damian could see what he was doing. Dick was retreating. _No._ Damian wasn't going to let Dick escape back in his mind. Not again.

"Dick, look at me."

Dick's eyes remained downcast and Damian knew it wasn't from lack of hearing the command. Dick was ignoring him.

"Look at me!"

When Dick looked at him this time, something was different. Something had changed. It took a minute to realize what it was and once he did, Damian nearly choked.

Dick's eyes, they were-

"Why did you do it?"

Damian took a step back, arms frozen outward. "What?" He shook his head, eyes suddenly burning, "How-"

Dick continued, eyes determined and clear, cold even, "Did you really hate me that much?"

This was-what was this?

That night, the night in the cave, the night Damian had been so angry, so confused. Why wouldn't Batman listen to reason? The man was too proud to see the logic, too set in his damn ways to understand what they were doing wasn't working.

 _Justice not vengeance._

How many damn times had Damian repeated that mantra, built into his being since the first day Bruce had let him wear the costume.

Justice, Damian had been told, was being better than your enemy. Not pulling the trigger, not willingly taking the life of another.

Justice, Damian learned, was just the same as cowardice.

And Damian Wayne was no coward.

That night Robin had been furious, furious and utterly confused. The teenager had needed an outlet for his anger and Nightwing, always more observant than Batman, gave him just that. It was always more satisfying to fight something real, Robin felt. Better than any of Batman's simulations anyway.

Robin used his forearm to effectively block one of Nightwing's kicks. The argument had been on going and the air was tense, "He's wrong on this, Grayson, you know it and I know it. Superman is right, the world can't go on like this. The sooner Bruce sees it, the better off we'll be."

"Damian, you can't really think that," Nightwing sounded so sure of himself and his convictions were only pissing Robin off even more.

Between Nightwing and Batman, both blind and as clueless as ever, he'd finally had enough.

"I do," Robin insisted. Nightwing's eyes widened as the teenager tore off his mask, tossing it angrily to the ground. "I can't play this charade anymore. I won't be Bruce's puppet. I won't hide behind his fear any longer."

"Fear?" Nightwing repeated, following the gesture, but only demasking so he could look equally at Damian.

"His fear of doing the right thing."

Nightwing sighed, "That isn't fear Damian, it's knowing when to stop, knowing where to keep the line. How to keep yourself from becoming like them."

"You sound just like him," Damian accused. "You're both so damned blind to what's going on. Can't you see what Superman is doing is-"

"Superman is murdering people Damian, that's neither heroic, nor justice."

That word again- _justice_.

It breaks the dam Damian's barely been holding inside.

"You're a fool," Damian spat. "A second rate reject that can't even think for himself. You didn't cut it as Batman and you can't even stand on your own two feet without him. I can't believe I ever followed you. You're pathetic, Grayson."

The words echoed across the cavern walls.

Dick's lips pursed, "I've tried to help and all you've done is push me and everyone else away. You think I'm so pathetic. _Fine_. You'll never have to see me again." He said it calmly, evenly and as his two sticks fell to the ground, Dick loudly made his point.

"Do what you want, Damian. I'm done."

Dick was washing his hands of him.

Damian's blood boiled even more. "Don't you dare walk away from me, Grayson!"

Dick kept walking.

"Grayson!"

Damian was suddenly frantic.

Dick was walking away. Dick Grayson, the one person Damian could count on, no matter what. The man he felt closer to than anyone else, his friend and mentor was finally abandoning him.

 _No._

Damian's anger and fear was so much that he barely registered reaching down to pick up one of the discarded weapons.

 _No._

It was heavy in his hand, heavier than his labored breathing squeezing all his insides together.

 _No._

Damian's aim was either perfect or way, way off.

To this day, he still didn't know which.

 _NO!_

Dick fell and-

 _NO!_

The blood was warm, slippery and wet. Too warm, too fresh, spilling and filling the cracks beneath Damian's boots.

He'd always heard head wounds bleed more, but never had Damian seen so much blood-

The scream, the demand, the giant shadow of black pushing him away, "What have you done!?"

Damian's hands were stained in the drying crimson, a color he saw every time he closed his eyes. Stains he could never erase.

Stains he could never erase. Never fix.

Never-Dick would never-

 _No, no._ Damian wasn't doing this.

He was never doing-never _remembering_ this again.

Damian latched onto Dick's hands and brought them to his face. "I don't hate you, Dick. Can't you see that?"

Dick didn't reply.

"I-I love you, Dick. I've always loved you."

The response was immediate, cold and made even worse but the lift of Dick's mouth, "No, you don't."

Damian's eyes widened.

"You don't murder someone that you love."

Murder, how could Dick even use that word? Nothing could be further from the truth. Accident, it had been a- Damian shook his head. He didn't like this, didn't like this _at all_.

"He's going to take me away from you," Dick continued confidentially. " _Jason's_ going to take me away and you can't stand it."

That did it, those words, coming so assuredly from Dick's mouth, so sure and almost cocky, something inside Damian snapped. His released Dick's hands and the man gave a smirk that Damian swore could have belonged to Jason Todd.

Red, Damian saw red. The color of his hands, the crimson stains he couldn't remove, the color of robins, filling his memories with the flutter of their wings.

Red, the color of Jason Todd's helmet.

The slap left his hand numb and it wasn't until he saw the vicious stripe of red across Dick's suddenly pale face that Damian even realized he'd struck.

Red, more red.

Dick was beneath him and Damian didn't remember when or how his hand had found it's way on the man's throat. Long and elegant, just like the rest of him, long and perfect and-

Dick's eyes, wide and fearful as he gasped for air.

He couldn't-Damian couldn't.

He couldn't look at those eyes, couldn't look at Dick at all.

He couldn't stop either.

He needed to forget.

Taking Dick around the middle, Damian dropped the man on his stomach, twisting Dick's head away to the side. Damian didn't want to see his face. _He couldn't._

A breath, a plea, a sob, something flew deep from inside Dick, reverberating against Damian. He ignored it, ignored everything but his growing want, his growing _need_ to release everything. His anger, his hatred, everything Damian both despised and yet loved about his life and the people in it.

As he quickly undressed the man beneath him, Damian thought on how it had all turned to this. Damian was aware of the shivering and shudders that passed under his less than gentle touch, but he ignored them.

In an odd way Damian might have cared for Drake and Pennyworth. Admittedly, some days more than others, but he supposed they were his family now.

Todd was another matter.

Dick may have gasped or even sobbed his name, but he wasn't listening.

Damian respected Superman, respected him in a way he'd never quite been able to his own father. The man of Steel was his mentor, the only person he could really trust anymore. His rock when he needed one.

And Dick, Damian loved Dick with every fiber of his being. He loved Dick so much it hurt. Every curve, every muscle, every scar that lined Dick's back, he knew them all. He knew them and he loved each and every one.

Damian loved Dick, but he also knew that Dick needed more than just a gentle hand. Just like any other person Dick needed structure and purpose.

Dick needed discipline.

Because Jason Todd would never take him anywhere.

* * *

"Is this seriously all you do all day?"

Tim didn't even look up, he merely turned a page, "Yep."

Jason knocked on one of the bookshelves then skimmed through a book before tossing it over his shoulder, "Kind of boring, isn't it?"

Tim noticed the pile growing on the floor with a frown, "Alfred has to pick those up, you know."

Jason snorted, "Why? It's not like anyone ever comes to visit, is it? I mean this place looks like it's been lock downed like Fort Knox, clearly Damian doesn't like to entertain." Not like Bruce who had been the king of entertainment. Always throwing those damn charity balls and whatnot.

Tim shook his head, "The only people he ever brings here are the Order and trust me that's an ordeal in and of itself."

"Order?" Jason asked. "What like he brings Superman and his lackies for wine and cheese on Sundays or whatever?"

"I'm not quite sure what they do, I'm confined to my room on those days, but yeah that's pretty much it."

Jason watched Tim curiously. A day had passed since the younger man's breakdown and neither of them had really brought it up. Jason wasn't ashamed of holding the man, even long into the night. Truthfully, Jason was just as worried about Tim as he was Dick and if the younger man needed simple body contact to help alleviate some of the pain, Jason was more than willing to offer it. Jason wanted to feel useful for something and even as Tim called out another man's name while he awoke from a nightmare, Jason never mentioned it.

Nightmares, they all seemed to have them anymore.

Tim somehow slipped in his bed the second night and Jason didn't even question it.

Hell, Jason would let Alfred join them if the elder man were to ever need it. They needed to be a united front. If they were ever going to take Damian down, they had to do it together. He had most of his team present and within close distance, but honestly it was Dick's absence that truly bothered Jason.

"Where does he keep him?" As much as Jason hated to put it that way, it was obvious Damian was treating Dick like some kind of pet. _Christ_ , he all but had the older man on a freaking leash.

"Damian stays in Bruce's wing, I don't think he lets Dick out of his sight if he can help it."

Jason swallowed, willing away images of the man cooing, soothing, and kissing all over Dick. Jason stomached turned. It all seemed affectionate and yet there was obviously something more. For as much as Dick was calmed by Damian, the way Damian latched onto Dick, Dick babbling like some kind of lunatic, something about it rubbed Jason the wrong way.

"What happened to Dick?"

Tim's shoulders tensed.

"Christ Tim, you knew I was going to ask it." How could Jason not?

Tim finally sighed, "I know." He exhaled before he continued, "The truth is-I'm not quite sure. I didn't hear about it right away and once I did Damian had disappeared and Bruce-Bruce wouldn't talk to anyone," Tim swallowed thickly as he ground his hands into fists. "I was so angry at him, he didn't tell me and once he did it was too late to do anything. I-it was horrible," Tim's eyes misted over, "I-I should have been there. I could have stopped it, I know I could have. It's my fault."

"Whoa," Jason held up a hand, "Slow down." Trust Tim to immediately blame himself, but he was still hiding the one fact Jason needed. "What _happened_?" Jason had a sinking suspicion he knew, but he hoped to all hell he was wrong.

"Dick was," Tim voice cracked. "Dick was dead, Jason."

 _Hell._ "Well he looks pretty damn good for a dead guy."

Tim flashed him an angry glare and Jason winced, holding another placating hand out, "Sorry, I know it's not funny. Although I can't help repeating the _was_ dead part. I'm assuming it wasn't just a miraculous recovery of some sort."

"No, I can't imagine it was," Tim replied.

A deep voice came from behind them, "Am I interrupting something?"

Jason turned to see the great shitbag himself, Damian Wayne, tall and polished, looking way too much like Bruce and certainly much more handsome than anyone so twisted should ever have been allowed to.

Tim shifted as if to distance himself from Jason. Jason wasn't sure when he had moved so close, but seeing the slight panic in Tim's eyes and the way Damian was observing their close proximity, Jason was suddenly struck with an idea.

An either terribly brilliant or just plain terrible idea.

Jason reached out and grabbed Tim's thigh, halting the smaller man's hurried escape from the loveseat they were both sitting on. Blue eyes widened at him in shock and confusion, but Jason winked back. He hoped Tim could read his pointed smile for a sign he should play along. Tim's brow furrowed, but Jason swore his head tilted forward in just the smallest of nods.

Still the same smart little bastard, thank Christ for that.

"Actually," Jason's lip lifted at Damian, "You sort of are."

Damian's brow flickered up, but his eyes were neither cold, nor angry-they were, Jason wanted to say it was disgust there, but the idea was so damn funny, Jason actually wanted to laugh out loud.

As if Damian _fucking_ Wayne, the master ringleader of this shit storm had any right to look on _anyone_ with disgust.

Jason only wished the world could see the insides of the suave, good looking man for what they really were. The monster that emerged would be no doubt as twisted and grotesque as Damian had become and Jason found that image fittingly appropriate.

Tim hadn't said it, but Jason knew the rumors had to be true. It was Damian who had killed Dick, Jason felt it the moment he'd laid eyes on Dick, even if he didn't want to admit it. The question was-why had Damian brought Dick back? The how is already a bubbling mess in Jason's stomach, a time and place he really doesn't want to think on.

 _Darkness. Cold, cold darkness. Nothing and then-_

Jason stopped the thought dead.

Damian's mouth was it's typical sneer as he crossed his arms, looking impossibly bigger than he really was, "I can see that."

Jason remained nonchalant, "Something you needed?" He could feel Tim's muscles tense under his hand and relented his grip on the man's thigh. "We're kind of busy here, D-man."

"Seems you've been quite _busy_ the last two nights as well."

Well, well seemed Damian was indeed a peeping tom.

Jason tried to seem the slightest bit embarrassed, but the truth was he was too pleased with himself to even be able to pretend. _Hook, line and sinker_ , Jason nearly grinned. Either he was a secret genius or Damian was just too easy.

Tim wanted to argue, wanted to say something, but he didn't.

Again, smart cookie.

"What, is that against the rules now too?"

"I wasn't aware this was even a-" Damian's eyes flited between Jason and Tim, "- _thing_."

 _Neither did I_ Tim's bowed shoulders read.

Jason licked his lips, "I thought Tim was dead, alright?" Jason pushed on through the part truth and only hoped he was convincing about it. "Excuse me for being a little excited to find it wasn't true."

Damian's eyes darkened, "Didn't seem to care that much when he and Grayson tried to reach out to you. Multiple times, in fact. Where were these supposed feelings then?"

In the same place yours were before you offed the man you're currently toting around like a damn handbag, Jason doesn't say. "We all have our secrets, don't we? Hell, isn't that like the damn bat motto or something? And what the hell were you doing? Were you _watching_ us?"

"What I could stomach through," Damian admitted. "Which wasn't much."

Which meant Damian no doubt thought they'd done more than simply shared a bed.

Again Jason held a self-gratifying grin. _Good._

"I don't see the problem," Jason peered up at Damian as if considering him with a sly smile. "Unless you'd rather have me all to yourself, _big boy_."

Damian's teeth grit, "I'd _rather_ you kept your hands to yourself, Todd. I won't have your idle eyes wandering around my home. Grayson is-"

"Oh god," Jason interrupted with a look of disgust. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about that."

Damian's mouth ticked, "Meaning?"

Tim tensed.

Jason hoped he was still toeing the line enough and not completely jumping into the deep waters. He rose from his seat and calculated his next words carefully. "Meaning I'm not fucking blind, Damian."

Damian visibly tensed under his suit jacket. Goddamn, he was even wearing Bruce's clothes. "Am I really supposed to believe you've changed your stance so quickly?"

"What stance?" Jason asked breezily. "I was worried about his mental state; he all but fucking attacked me." He added after another laugh, "Christ, if I wanted to fuck a vegetable I'd go find a half rotted cucumber to shove up my ass. Probably be more fun and definitely less degrading."

That did it, Jason knew he'd crossed it even before Damian grabbed him and pinned him to the wall. Jason swore he heard a crack in between all the stars swimming in his vision. "You're not a very convincing liar, Todd," Damian seethed.

Jason fought for breath, but didn't lose his smirk, "Maybe you've been cooped up here a little too long Damian. Everyone knows you're clearly Gotham's number one bachelor. You really think you can tote Dick Grayson around and you'll get any looks of jealousy? Come on, man, open your eyes, clearly the golden boy's golden years are over."

Damian's teeth snapped as his grip tightened over Jason's windpipe, "I don't care about that."

"So you'll hide him away like a dirty little secret? Eventually, you're going to want something more than-whatever the hell he _does_ for you, aren't you?"

" _That_ is none of your business."

Jason watched Damian's uneven breathing. Small as it was, Jason knew he'd cracked at least something in Damian's ego if nothing else.

Insulting Dick was unfair and truthfully it was all a complete lie, but-

There was a light knock on the already open door, "Master Damian, I-" Alfred stopped at the scene before him and with an exasperated breath Damian eventually released Jason, albeit unhappily.

"What?" Damian snapped at the intrusion.

"It's-I'm afraid it's time to go sir."

Damian pursed his lips. He whirled around and his eyes found Tim before his hand latched onto the smaller man's arm and he yanked him from the chair. His sapphire eyes then flew to Jason a not so hidden warning in them. Jason fought everything within him as he watched Damian all but manhandle Tim out of the room.

 _Shit._ This wasn't-Jesus, what had Jason just done?

Alfred's look was one of pure misery as he followed, closing the double doors behind him. Jason wasn't sure what the hell was going on but it wasn't until he heard the lock in the door click that he fully began to panic. It wasn't just a click, something else slid in place, something that sounded especially more heavy than a simple lock.

Jason's heart thundered.

 _No._

He ran at the door and was unsurprised but heavily worried when he realized the wood had absolutely no give.

 _Shit._

"Damian, you piece of shit, come back here!"

Jason paced, slamming the door over and over again. Still nothing.

"Damian!"

 _Fucking shit._

Jason and his _fucking_ mouth.

Jason bit into hand to keep his eyes from watering.

What had he just done?

What the _fuck_ had he just done?


End file.
